The Lying Woods

by Ashley Elston

  “Yes, I’m going with Seth.”

  Ah, now it’s all coming together. “Is he your boyfriend?”

  “No. We’re friends. I like Seth. He’s cool.”

  “Cool.” Now I hate him more than ever.

  Pippa spins her water bottle around. “So what’s the favor?”

  “Mom is on me to interact with people from school so she’s driving me nuts about going to this dance. Keeps telling me to get involved. So can I tell her I’m going with you to get her off my back?”

  She frowns. “Can’t you just tell her and have that be the end of it? Why do you need a favor from me?”

  “I can. And I will. I just thought on the off chance she calls you, you’d be ready. It wouldn’t surprise me if she checks up on me.”

  Pippa bites on her bottom lip, thinking about what I’m asking of her. “I don’t like the idea of lying to your mom.”

  “I highly doubt she’ll call. I’m just covering my bases.”

  “So what are you going to do while she thinks you’re at the dance?” She pulls out a Snickers bar and I stare at it, because Pippa eating candy is the best thing ever. She’s not even paying attention as she smooths out the square plastic bag her sandwich was in. Pippa pinches the candy bar gently, separating the chocolate shell from the inside filling. I know after she eats the chocolate, she’ll separate the nougat layer from the caramel and peanut layer, eating them separately.

  Pippa catches me watching her and drops the bar, now completely bare of chocolate, on the plastic bag. “It’s weird, I know. I can’t help it.”

  “I like it. It’s your thing and that makes it really cool.”

  She blushes, then ducks her head so I don’t see it. Too late. I like that I’m breaking through her resistance. I want nothing more than for us to be friends again.

  She realizes I haven’t answered her question so she asks it again. “What will you be doing while she thinks you’re at the dance with me?”

  I shrug. “I’ll be around.” I don’t tell her that I don’t have any plans, but doing nothing would be better than going to that dance. I’ll probably end up back at Gus’s. Maybe bring him some food and hang out there.

  “Where do you go every day after school?” she asks. “Because I know it’s not your aunt’s house.”

  “Are you checking up on me?”

  “You wish,” she says with a smile. “I babysit two little girls after school every day until their mom gets home from work and they live down the street from your aunt’s house. That truck you drive is never there. Just wondering where you go because…”

  She doesn’t finish although I could probably finish for her. Because you have no friends or because you have nowhere else to go. Either of those could work.

  “I work for Gus Trudeau in his pecan orchard every day.”

  She nods. “I’ve heard of him but I’ve never been out there. He’s quite the recluse. Everyone talks about how he’s only left that house once since he buried his wife. The cops showed up at his house for some reason, brought him to town, and he lost it on everyone in the station. He hasn’t been back to town since.”

  Now I want to know everything she knows about him. I forget how small this town is and how everyone knows everyone else’s business.

  “So you’ve never met him?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “No. My parents knew him way back. They all went to school together. I think my mom met his wife before they were married and then saw her a few times after but no one saw her once she got sick.”

  “She died pretty young, didn’t she?”

  “Yeah. I heard they met at some concert or music festival or something like that. It was one of those love-at-first-sight kind of things. Got married soon after they met and then she got diagnosed with cancer. It was really fast. Everyone says he was never the same after that. Wouldn’t let anyone come over, never came to town. It’s really sad.”

  It is sad.

  “How’d you end up with a job out there? That seems so random.”

  I hate for her to hear how pathetic I was the day I got back to town but there’s really no other way to explain it. “The day I got back I couldn’t stand to be at Aunt Lucinda’s, especially with all the people standing on the sidewalk, gawking at Mom and me. So I took off running. Ran all the way to his place. Talked to him awhile and he offered me a job in exchange for using the truck.”

  She looks surprised. “I’ve always heard that you’d get shot if you showed up there. Or that his wife haunts that pecan orchard.”

  I think about how spooky it feels sometimes in the Preacher Woods but I don’t think it’s because of the ghost of Gus’s wife. It’s more like the ghost of my father, taunting me with a past and a present I don’t understand.

  “It’s really pretty cool out there. You should ride out. I’ll give you a tour.”

  Her shoulders shake like just thinking about it gives her the shivers. I had no idea Gus had that reputation.

  Pippa puts all her lunch trash back in her insulated lunch bag. “So back to lying to your mom—”

  I cut her off by saying, “Most likely she won’t call you.”

  She waits a few seconds, then repeats herself. “So back to lying to your mom, you’ll just be around?”

  “Yes. And I owe you one. Say the word and whatever you need, you’ve got it.”

  She nods and then we’re both startled when the bell rings.

  We made it through lunch.

  • • •

  I scan the aisles, checking the prices and hoping there is at least one pair I can afford. This store sells everything from sporting goods to electronics to home décor and is the only place in town I can find what I need.

  “Want to try something on?”

  I glance over my shoulder and try not to look surprised when I see David. He’s wearing a shirt with the store’s logo with a name tag pinned above it.

  “These are a little out of my range.” It’s hard to say this. I’m not sure that I’ve ever looked at something and worried I couldn’t afford it. And then I realize what a jackass that makes me.

  David stares at me a moment then says, “What type of shoes are you looking for?”

  I hesitate telling him because he’s on the lacrosse team and I don’t know how he’ll feel about me joining. I don’t really want to get too involved at school but I’m also thinking I need to keep busy. And then there’s college. I’m not sure how I can pay for college now that we don’t have any money. My grades are good but not good enough to get a full ride. And I can’t join the cross-country team even though that’s my best sport because the season is almost over and I missed qualifying for the state finals. But lacrosse starts soon and since it’s a club sport, there are no eligibility restrictions. Not sure I can get a scholarship since it’s not like lacrosse is a huge sport in college in the South, but I’m desperate enough to try anything.

  “I need some cleats,” I answer. “For lacrosse.” My old pair are shot from last season.

  He raises his eyebrows and looks at me. “You’re joining the team?”

  I nod.

  “What position do you play?”

  “Attack.”

  David looks me up and down as if he’s seeing me for the first time. “Are you fast?”

  I nod again. Thanks to cross-country, not only am I fast but I have the endurance to maintain my speed throughout the entire game.

  “Follow me,” he says.

  We move away from the shoe display and turn the corner until we’re in the back corner of the store where there’s an entire wall of discounted items.

  David gestures to a pair of cleats. “We have a bunch of these left over from a couple of seasons ago.”

  The price is slashed and more in the range I can afford. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

  “What size?”

  I tell him and he digs in the pile until he finds the ones I need. I flip open the box, pull the shoes out so I can try them on, but then
we’re both distracted by the TVs in the electronics section right next to us.

  Every set is tuned to the same station so all of them show the local news anchor cutting into the episode of Jeopardy! with a breaking story on my dad.

  With both of us glued to the TVs, the anchor says, “Police are on the scene at Louisiana Frac. There was a break-in last night and investigators are trying to determine what, if anything, was taken.”

  The screen switches to a reporter on the scene who is interviewing Detective Hill.

  A microphone is shoved in his face and he says, “We are looking into what happened here. Almost everything of value had already been seized and removed from this location so there’s not much left to steal. This may be more of a case of vandalism than burglary. There will be a police presence out at Louisiana Frac from now on to deter anyone else from trying to destroy this property.”

  The camera pans the interior of Dad’s office and it looks like a hurricane blew through there, papers everywhere, chairs turned over, light fixtures torn out of the ceiling.

  “It looks like someone went in just to tear the place up,” David says.

  “Or maybe they were hoping to find something the Feds missed.”

  David looks at the screens a little differently now. “What would they be looking for?”

  “I’m sure they were looking for something that could point them to the missing money. Maybe a file or bank account info. That’s all anyone wants to know. And it’s probably the same person who has been calling and threatening my mom.”

  “Your mom has been getting threats?” David asks, looking at me.

  I nod. “Yeah. Some calls and shit like that.”

  “Man, that’s not cool.” And by the way he says it, I know he means it.

  “Thanks,” I say, turning back to the shoes. “I’ll get these.”

  David nods and I follow him to the register. He rings me up and I hand over my very hard-earned cash. I hate parting with it but I feel good that I was able to buy them myself.

  I’m just about to leave when David says, “Welcome to the team.”

  • • •

  “Did you see the news today?” I ask Gus.

  Not only was there the story of the break-in at Louisiana Frac, but it also turns out a few more companies have come forward saying Dad owes them a ton of money for work they did or products they sold him that he never paid for on a set of wells in North Louisiana. But records show he was paid in full for fracking those wells, so it’s clear the money went straight into his pocket.

  His theft keeps growing.

  “Yep,” he answers. One of the arms on the shaker was acting funny so Gus is working on it while I watch. We’re in the back of the orchard, close to the preacher house, and it’s about thirty minutes from dark. I was hoping to get this section done, but the left side wasn’t gripping the trunk tight enough to shake the tree.

  “This is going to make it so much worse,” I say, back to thinking about Dad. “Before, I bet most people believed he’d spent all of the money, but now it looks like there’s probably a stash somewhere. He’s definitely stolen more than he’s spent.”

  “That’s what it sounds like.”

  I kick the shaker’s tire. “What am I supposed to do now?”

  Gus looks up from where he’s working. “What do you mean? I don’t think there’s anything you can do about any of it, is there?”

  I can find Dad. I can confront him and try to talk him into giving whatever he stole back. Or I can turn him in if he doesn’t. But I can’t say any of this so I answer, “No. Not really.”

  “Well, try to quit looking at the news and let the people in charge worry about finding him and the money.” He waits a moment, then asks, “Y’all haven’t gotten any more threats, have you?”

  I shake my head. “No.” I lean closer to get a better look at what he’s working on. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m taking the arm off and cleaning it out then putting it back together. Hopefully, that’s all that’s wrong with it.”

  Dad never really taught me how to do anything like this—not change a flat or the oil in my engine.

  “Big plans this weekend?” Gus asks.

  I shrug and try to look casual. I’m afraid my plans for the weekend are all over my face. “No. Not really. Just hanging out.”

  “Good. We could be done shaking by tomorrow. I was thinking we could start harvesting this Saturday. We could get two full days in before you go back to school on Monday.”

  Shit. This is not good. Gus has done so much for me…the truck, the paycheck…and I’m going to have to bail on him because there’s no way I’m changing my plans.

  “Well, I’m going to the auction on Saturday.”

  Gus stops what he’s doing and looks at me. “You’re going to the auction?”

  I shrug. “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  “Just want to look around before it’s all gone.”

  Gus gets back to work on the shaker and the silence is killing me.

  “Will it throw you off too bad if I’m not here to help?” The guilt is filling me up quickly. He’s bent over, working on the shaker’s arm so he doesn’t see my panicked look.

  “Nah, it’s fine.”

  I’m waiting for him to tell me not to go or what a bad idea it is to be there but he doesn’t say anything else.

  Gus finally takes a step back from the shaker and says, “We’re going to need a little oil to grease the gear. Ride back up to the barn and grab it from the shelf on the back wall. It’ll be in a small blue can.”

  I nod and sprint to the golf cart parked off to the side. It’s a short trip back to the barn and I pull the cart into an empty spot next to the shelf, looking for the oil he needs. I scan the shelves three times and don’t see anything that resembles what he’s asking for. I search the rest of the barn and come up empty. The only place I haven’t looked is in the apartment upstairs and even though I really don’t think it would be up there, it’s the last place I haven’t checked. I move to the bottom of the stairs and look up at the closed door.

  I jog up the stairs before I think too long on whether or not Gus would be pissed if I walk into his private space. If I’m being honest, I’ve been dying to see what it’s like in there.

  I turn the knob and the door opens. It’s not locked this time. Pushing it open farther, I step inside. It’s one big room, very similar to the house in the Preacher Woods with the kitchen, sitting area, and bed all in view. But this room is cleaner and more modern than the old shack since there’s a huge TV mounted to the wall and the kitchen is full of the usual appliances.

  I take a quick look around but I’m not surprised when I don’t see the blue can. I’m just about to turn to leave when something odd catches my eye. The side of the refrigerator is covered in pictures. Curious, I move across the room hoping to learn more about Gus but I’m shocked to see he’s not in any of them.

  Instead there are pictures of a bunch of different people. Some I guess at, like the woman sitting in a wheelchair, wrapped up in a blanket, must be his wife that died. And the woman in scrubs standing beside her must be Betty.

  And then there are the pictures of me. A couple of me as a newborn, a few more when I was in grade school, and then on to Sutton’s. The last image is one of Mom and me when she dropped me off at school back in August.

  Why are these here?

  I move around to the front of the fridge and there’s a Christmas card taped to the front. In Mom’s neat handwriting and dated a few months after I started Sutton’s in sixth grade, it says:

  Gus,

  Thinking of you this holiday season! Owen is settled at Sutton’s and we’re looking forward to seeing him during the break. As much as I wanted him to go, it was hard sending him off to school but it’s where he needs to be. I’m hoping he can get some distance from here. I’ll send more pictures when I see him in a few weeks.

  There’s not a day that goes by that I don’
t think about that summer and everything that happened. I’d love for you to meet him. I think you’d really like the young man he’s become.

  Maggie

  I stagger back to the small table in the kitchen area and drop down in the chair. I stare at the card, rereading it until it’s memorized. I always thought Dad was the one who wanted to send me off to boarding school, but it seems it was Mom who wanted me to go. Why did she want me to have some distance from this town?

  What summer is she talking about? The one when she met Dad here?

  For some reason, she never brought me to meet Gus and she’s never mentioned “that summer” or anything that happened.

  Then I remember what Mr. Blackwell told me. There’s a guy from Dad’s past that had Dad bracing for trouble. Could that be the same thing Mom was talking about in her note? Something that happened that first summer they met?

  Just when I thought it wasn’t possible for me to have more questions, I do.

  I hear the rumble of the shaker outside the small window and I jump up from the chair and hurry across the small room, shutting the door on my way out. I barely clear the stairs when Gus walks into the barn.

  “What’s taking you so long?” he asks. He looks from me, up toward the apartment and then back at me.

  “I’ve looked all over but can’t find a blue can,” I say. Keeping my voice calm and steady, I bite back the questions that are lodged in my throat.

  Gus passes me as he walks to the shelf behind me, the first shelf I searched, and pulls out a small blue can partially hidden behind a box of random parts. He searches my face, trying to read what’s going on in my head, before he turns around and starts walking out of the barn. Just before he gets to the door, I say, “What happened that summer?”

  By the jerk in his shoulders, he knows I’ve seen the card. He doesn’t turn around, just shakes his head slowly back and forth.

  He starts to walk away but I stop him when I say, “I have a right to know.”

  Gus finally turns around. “You’re right. You do. But not today. And not from me.”

  Noah—Summer of 1999

  “I look like a dumbass,” I say, staring at the mirror.