The Lying Woods

by Ashley Elston

  It doesn’t take long until the conveyor belt is full. Gus grabs anything that doesn’t belong faster than I can focus on what’s going by me.

  “At the end of the belt is a Super Sack. All good pecans should fall in there.”

  The Super Sacks are huge white plastic bags. “When the sack is full, use the spear on the front of the tractor to move it under the big covered shed behind the barn.”

  “Is this something you and I can handle on our own?” I ask. It looks like it would be easy for things to get out of control. And my head is spinning over all of the steps. I’m barely capable of backing a trailer out of the barn without jackknifing it. This part seems way more than I can handle.

  “We can take it slow. If it gets to be too much, I can always ask Betty’s grandsons to come by and help.”

  I’ve yet to see Betty but I know she’s Gus’s link to the outside world.

  “For today, you run the harvester and I’ll work the cleaner.”

  I look at tree after tree after tree down the line and it seems like this job will never end. Jumping on the tractor, I crank it and get to work. I pick up pecans under four trees until the hopper is full. Driving back toward the barn, I back up to the cleaner and move the pecans from one machine to the other.

  This is the first time I’ve gotten something right on the first try and it feels incredible.

  I’m about to head back out into the orchard for another round when I see Pippa coming down the driveway. The smile that breaks out across my face is ridiculous but I don’t care.

  Turning off the tractor, I jog to meet her where she parks in the front circle drive. Gus is coming out of the main house and gets to her at the same time I do.

  Pippa gets out with a brown sack in one hand and a stack of mail in the other.

  “Hey, I hope it’s okay I came by. I was bored and thought y’all might want some lunch.” She shakes the brown bag. “I brought BBQ sandwiches.”

  “I’m starving and that smells delicious,” I say.

  “That’s really nice of you,” Gus adds.

  She hands the stack of mail to Gus. “The mailman came by right as I pulled in. Thought I’d save you a trip to the road.”

  Gus takes the mail and thumbs through it quickly, then stops when he gets to a large white envelope. He tears it open and his entire demeanor changes. His eyes are racing across the pages and deep lines form across his forehead.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask.

  He ignores me and I look at Pippa as if she has the answer for what’s come over him.

  Finally, Gus says, “Uh, yeah. Fine. Everything’s fine. But this is something I need to take care of so let’s call it a day.”

  I check my watch and it’s barely noon. “You sure?” I ask.

  He’s distracted. “Yeah, we’ll start again tomorrow morning.” And then he’s gone, disappearing up the stairs to his small apartment.

  “That was weird,” Pippa says.

  It is weird but I’m not going to let it spoil the fact that she’s here and I don’t have to work today. I pull her in close and surprise her with a kiss. She laughs against my lips then wraps her arms around my neck.

  “Feel like having a picnic at the Preacher Woods house?” I ask.

  “Lead the way.”

  Noah—Summer of 1999

  “All right, boss,” Robert says. “What torture did you have in mind for today?”

  Even though he says it with a smile, I can hear the sarcasm in his voice. Robert was a big talker when he was begging Gus to let him stay, but now that I’m putting him to work every morning, his tune has changed.

  “We’re going to clean up the small cemetery where they buried Abby. Headstone won’t be here for a while but I’m hoping to get Gus out here to visit her so it needs to look nice. Grab those flats of flowers and put them in the back of the golf cart with the other equipment.”

  He does what I ask even though he’s moving so slow I could’ve done the task three times over already.

  We ride to the back part of the orchard in silence and once there we unload the flowers and all the tools we’ll need to work the area.

  The Trudeau family cemetery sits on a small hill in an open spot surrounded by some native pecan trees. From the small hill, you can see the narrow river that runs along the border of Gus’s property. The graves are enclosed in an ornate iron fence that comes about waist high, tall enough to keep any unwanted animals out but not much more than that. A quick count shows seven headstones so Abby’s will make eight, but there’s plenty of space for others who may come along.

  Although if Gus doesn’t snap out of it, he very well may be the last of his line.

  I grab the Weedeater out of the back and hand it to Robert. “Use this to trim the grass inside the fenced-in area.”

  He stares at it a moment, clearly not happy about today’s work, but eventually carries it inside the cemetery and cranks it up. I pull out the blower and follow behind him.

  Once the grass is cut and the clippings blown away, Robert asks, “Okay, what now?”

  I’m trying not to get frustrated. It’s clear by the equipment we brought what needs to be done.

  “Grab the bucket, that gallon jug of water, the brush, and some soap, and get to work cleaning off the headstones.”

  I pull out the flat of annuals and a small spade and start planting.

  “He’s not going to come out here so I don’t know why we’re doing all of this.”

  I glance at the mound of earth where I know Abby is and say, “Even if he doesn’t, we’re still going to keep this place looking nice.”

  “So I guess this was the original Trudeau. Says his name is Leonard.” Robert is perched in front of his headstone, scrubbing at the face of it with the soapy brush.

  “Yeah, that’s what Gus said,” I answer.

  “Gus never leaves so he doesn’t have a regular job. He just putters around this orchard. And he’s got all this land and that big beautiful house. That truck and Abby’s SUV. Wonder where he gets the money?” Robert asks. “I mean, he’s not that much older than us and he’s already living the life of leisure.”

  I don’t take the bait. It’s not like that question has never crossed my mind but it’s not something I want to speculate about with Robert.

  I stay quiet, moving from headstone to headstone, planting the flowers Abby loved.

  My silence doesn’t seem to bother him.

  “I envy you. Gus already looks at you like you’re his brother. Hell, he doesn’t have any family left, you’re crazy not to use that to your advantage. I mean, between him and Maggie’s family, you could be king of this little pissant town.”

  “You shouldn’t say shit like that,” I tell him but there’s a little part of me that soaks up those words, lets them tumble around my brain, wishing that it was that easy to become someone else. Someone who mattered. Someone who people looked up to and admired.

  Robert keeps talking like he didn’t hear what I said. “But you gotta get out there. Spend time with her family. Get to know other people in town.”

  “You make it sound easy,” I say. “But it’s never easy for people like me. People look at you and the way you dress and the way you talk and you’re halfway there.”

  Robert stops scrubbing and looks at me. “Everyone sees what I want them to see. Everyone thinks what I want them to think about me.”

  I get back to planting and he gets back to scrubbing.

  “You can’t become a hermit like Gus. I get he’s heartbroken but he’s too young to be hiding out here like his life is over.”

  He’s right. I’m going to have to work on getting him back into town with the living.

  Something Robert says floats through my mind. “When we were having that drink the other night, you mentioned Lucinda likes to talk. Has she mentioned what her family thinks about me?”

  Robert smiles at me but it’s a smile that says he’s got me, and I hate he knows how much I care about what they
think.

  “She says Nate’s their first choice for Maggie. I told you that already. You’re going to have to bring something to the table other than your dirty boots. I’m telling you, Gus could change the way this town sees you. But you have to get him back among the living first.”

  “I don’t want to use him like that,” I mumble.

  “Then you’re dumber than I thought. The only way to get ahead in this life is to use everything you can to your advantage.”

  I take the empty plastic containers the flowers came in and put them back in the golf cart.

  “Well, I guess I need to watch my back around you, then,” I say, joking around.

  “I would if I were you,” he answers back. He’s smiling and laughing but I can’t help but think there’s some truth there.

  20

  It takes nine calls before Jack answers his phone. Even though running into his dad all over town has freaked me out, I don’t hesitate calling him. There’s no one I trust more.

  “What the hell, O?” Jack says. I imagine him sitting up in the bed, hair sticking up and T-shirt on inside out. “Why are you calling me so early?”

  I’m perched on the front steps of Aunt Lucinda’s house dressed for a run. The sun isn’t up yet but it’s close. “I need to talk to someone.”

  “Give me a second,” he says. I hear him put the phone down and then he’s back a couple of minutes later.

  “I had to piss first,” he says when he gets back on the phone.

  “Well, I appreciate you not taking the phone in the bathroom with you. I’m really surprised I haven’t heard your new roommate screaming at you to shut up and go back to sleep.”

  “Dad’s convinced I can talk you into coming back so he told Winston to leave it open.”

  Some rooms have three guys bunking in them so it’s a miracle that Dr. Winston hasn’t moved someone in there already. It would suck to know I’d been replaced even though I turned down the chance to come back.

  “That’s pretty sweet.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been catching hell from everyone on this floor since I got this room to myself.”

  “When are you headed home for Thanksgiving?”

  “As soon as I get up and moving. But you didn’t call at the ass crack of dawn to ask about my holiday plans. What’s going on?”

  I lean back against the porch column and stare at the brightening sky. “I think Dad wants me to meet him.”

  “Seriously? How do you know? Did he call you? Holy shit, O, what are you going to do?”

  “I got a letter from him right before I left Sutton’s. He was telling me about some restaurant he discovered and how good the burgers are. Mentioned there was a Wednesday-night special and that we should go when I’m home for break.”

  I can tell by Jack’s silence that he thinks I’m reaching. “He tells you about some burger he ate. Is that all?” he asks.

  “He never wrote to me before. Literally, this is the only piece of mail I’ve gotten from him that wasn’t a card my mom bought and forced him to sign before dropping it in the mail.”

  “What do you think he wants? He’s gotta want something to pull this James Bond secret message bullshit. What if he wants you to run off with him?”

  “I wouldn’t run off with him. He probably does just want to say bye or something like that. Or maybe tell me where he stashed money for Mom and me. I don’t know. But I am going to try to convince him to turn himself in.”

  Jack lets a laugh. “He won’t. He ran. That says everything you need to know about him.”

  Even though the words are true, they’re harsh, and I bite back the desire to defend him. Whether he deserves it or not, he’s still my dad.

  “You don’t think he’ll be there, do you?” I ask.

  I hear muffled sounds like he’s rolling over in the bed. “Who knows? That’s some cryptic shit so maybe he will be. Or maybe it was just a damn good burger. I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

  “I’ll call you and let you know how it goes,” I say as I push off the steps and jog down the front walk.

  “If you get in a bind, give me a call,” Jack says. “And the offer still stands to come back.”

  • • •

  I can’t concentrate. Today is the day. The day I discover if I read Dad’s note correctly. The day that maybe Dad has an explanation for what’s going on or some plan to make things better. Or it’s the day I forget about him and move on.

  One way or another, my life will be different tomorrow.

  At least I have a full day ahead of me at Gus’s to keep me busy. I’m working the cleaner while Gus moved to the south edge of the orchard with the harvester. There are a line of big white Super Sacks waiting to be cleaned and I’m managing them one at a time. When I line another bag up with the tractor, I notice a white work vehicle parked in front of the big house. Parking the tractor, I cut off the man before he makes it to the front door.

  “Hey, can I help you?” I call out.

  The man spins around, clipboard in his hand, and says, “Yes, hello! We made it a couple of days earlier than I thought we would! Trying to get as much done before the holiday as we can.”

  He’s an older black guy and seems really enthusiastic about his job. I look back at his truck and see a younger white guy still sitting in the passenger seat.

  “Oh, okay. Are you here to fix something?” I ask, glancing at the house.

  “Um, no. We’re here for the installation,” he says, pointing back at his work truck, where the words Southern Granite are written across the side in a bright blue. He holds his hand out and says, “I’m Jimmy.”

  I shake his hand and say, “Owen. Do you need me to let you in?” I ask, gesturing toward the house.

  The guy looks at the house and then back to me, confusion on his face. “No, I know my way to the back so I’ll just head there. I will need someone to sign off on the delivery and installation. Can you do that?”

  I nod, more confused than ever, and the guy says, “Want to ride or follow me back there?”

  “I’ll follow,” I answer since I have no idea where “back there” is. I jump on the golf cart parked near the barn and follow him toward the house in the Preacher Woods. Is Gus fixing up something in there? Maybe the small kitchen is getting an update?

  I’d be lying if I didn’t have dreams of moving in there just to get out of Aunt Lucinda’s house, but I can’t leave Mom alone with her.

  Instead of turning left to head to the old house, we go right. Maybe he’s confused. But it doesn’t take long to figure out where the destination is.

  The truck pulls up along the side of the small family cemetery and it feels like my stomach is bottoming out. What could he possibly need to install back here?

  This time, both guys get out of the truck and open the back, revealing a big rectangle covered in Bubble Wrap. Jimmy pulls a heavy-duty dolly out of the back of the truck while the white guy jumps inside and starts undoing the straps anchoring it to the floor of the vehicle.

  It’s pushed to the platform at the back of the truck then mechanically lowered until it’s on the ground. Jimmy and the other guy get it on the dolly and wheel it inside the fenced-in area that outlines the small cemetery.

  It takes a while to get it lined up just right, then off the dolly. Jimmy starts unwrapping the Bubble Wrap.

  Layer after layer comes off until there’s a pile of plastic that’s being blown against the short iron fence. It would be scattered across the entire orchard if that barrier wasn’t in place.

  “Before we attach it permanently, I’m going to need you to sign off that everything on the headstone reads correctly,” Jimmy says.

  He and the other guy are standing in front of it so I haven’t gotten a good look at it yet.

  “Okay,” I say moving closer. “I’m not sure I can do that since…”

  And then I’m frozen.

  I read the words five times before my brain processes what it says.

 
; “Is something not right?” Jimmy asks, worry in his voice as he looks from me to the headstone. “Did we spell his name wrong?”

  And there next to Abby Trudeau’s grave, in front of a rounded mound of earth, is the brand-new headstone for Gus Trudeau, husband and friend, who died five months ago.

  Noah—Summer of 1999

  It’s only a couple of weeks before Maggie leaves for school and I feel desperate. Even though we’ve made plans for me to join her in January, there’s a lot I need to figure out before then. Like money.

  Another issue I have to figure out before I leave—what to do about Gus.

  He never gets off the couch, barely showers, eats nothing but junk food, drinks beer throughout the day, and watches lots of bad daytime TV.

  The smell from that upstairs apartment filters down the stairs and out of the barn.

  “Gus,” I say when I walk inside the apartment. “It’s time to get up. You’ve been on that couch for weeks. Betty’s threatening to quit if she comes back and you’re still in those clothes.”

  He takes a swig of the beer, looks at me over the bottle, and then his attention goes back to whatever courtroom drama is playing out there.

  “Seriously, I’m about to pull your ass off that couch.”

  “And then I’ll fire your ass,” he mumbles back.

  That’s it. I grab both of his ankles and yank as hard as I can. He flies off the couch and hits the ground.

  “She would be so pissed if she saw you right now! In fact, she’s probably stomping around up there looking down on your stinky ass!”

  Gus roars and then comes at me. It’s not long before we’re rolling around the floor. Neither of us throws a punch and I’m not sure what either of us is trying to accomplish but at least he’s moving. And showing some sort of emotion.

  He finally pulls away from me and leans against the wall, dragging in deep breaths.

  I get up and walk to the door. “Want to fire me? Fire me. I’d rather get kicked out of here than watch you fall even farther down this hole you’re in.”

  “You don’t understand,” he says.

  I throw my hands in the air. “You’re right! I have no idea what you’re going through. But I promised Abby not to let you go too far over the edge and I’ll be damned if I go back on my word to her.”