A House Divided

by Robert Whitlow

  Corbin wanted more details about Billy’s altercation with Sammy, but the fish demanded their immediate attention. He turned it so they could inspect it.

  “What do you see about Sammy that makes him stand out?”

  “He’s missing a piece of his back fin.”

  Corbin took a closer look. Sure enough, there was a notch in the fish’s caudal fin.

  “Yeah, maybe that happened when another fish jumped on him and held him underwater.”

  Billy laughed. Corbin lowered the bass into the pond, and it swam off. During the next hour and a half, Billy caught two fish and Corbin hooked one. None of the fish deserved a name. In between fish, Corbin continued to sample the beverage from the mason jar. Eventually there was only an inch or so left.

  “Let’s go to the far end of the pond before we call it an afternoon,” he said as the sun dipped below the western hills.

  “Okay,” Billy replied, picking up his pole. “Do you feel bad?”

  “No,” Corbin answered. “Why?”

  “Your voice sounds different.”

  Corbin cleared his throat. He didn’t think his speech was slurred. He steered the boat to the place where a small stream that was part of the Cheola watershed entered the pond. Corbin cut the engine and let the boat drift.

  “Pops,” Billy said, pointing, “do you see that fish?”

  Corbin followed the boy’s hand and saw a slow, swirling movement in the water. “Yeah, let’s check it out.”

  Corbin kept an old aluminum oar in the bottom of the boat in case the motor died or he wanted to move the boat a few feet. He dipped the oar in the water and directed them toward the fish. It was an enormous bass, moving across the surface like a submarine coming up for air.

  “Don’t spook it,” Corbin whispered. “Get the net and hand it to me.”

  Corbin carefully laid down the oar and took the net from Billy. The boat silently slid near to the fish. Corbin held the pole attached to the net up in the air with his hand, then scooped it down in the water beneath the fish.

  “You got it!” Billy cried.

  It took both of Corbin’s hands to lift the heavy fish out of the water. The bass lay on its side in the net.

  “That’s Mr. Murdoch,” Corbin said. “See that dark streak down his jaw? He’s the only big fish in here with that marking.”

  “Why did he come down here?” Billy asked. “What’s he eating?”

  Corbin carefully picked up the fish from the net. It was limp in his hand. “Something’s wrong,” he said. “I think he came here to die.”

  “No, put him back,” Billy said. “He’ll swim off.”

  Corbin returned the fish to the water, but instead of swimming, it turned on its back and floated. Corbin shook his head.

  “Pops!” Billy called out. “There’s another one!”

  Sure enough, about twenty feet away a smaller fish was floating on its back. Corbin paddled the boat over to it. Nearby there were other dead bass of various sizes.

  “I need to tell Buck Braswell about this,” Corbin said. “Something’s attacked his fish. It could be a parasite outbreak.”

  As Billy stared silently at the dead fish, Corbin regretted that he’d personalized the bass in the pond. The fish weren’t pets, but he’d made them seem that way to his grandson. He started the boat’s motor, and they rode in silence to the take-out spot.

  When they reached the bank, Corbin unsteadily moved to the front of the boat. Holding the bow rope in his hand, he tried to make the transition directly to the bank. Suddenly his left foot slipped and his right leg went into the water. The right side of his face crashed into the top edge of the boat.

  Everything went black.

  THIRTEEN

  Pops!” Billy called out.

  Corbin blinked his eyes and grabbed the side of the boat with his hand, but it slipped off. He tried again and managed to pull himself upright. He lunged toward the bank and fell onto his back. Stunned, he still managed to keep the bow rope in his hand.

  “Are you okay?” he heard Billy ask.

  Corbin touched the side of his face. His fingers came away red. “Yeah,” he managed. “But it looks like I’ve got a little cut on my face.”

  He touched the sleeve of his shirt to the wound. When he saw how much blood it soaked up, he pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against the cut.

  “Can you get out on your own?” he asked Billy, who was looking at him anxiously from the front of the boat.

  Billy jumped from the boat onto the bank and came over to him.

  “I need to put some pressure on this cut for a few minutes, then I’ll get the boat onto the trailer,” Corbin said.

  “Should we call my dad?”

  “No, no. We can take care of this. You hold on to the rope while I tend to this scrape.”

  Corbin lay on the grass and kept the handkerchief pressed tightly against the cut. He felt light-headed, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the blow to the head or the moonshine. He closed his eyes and inwardly kicked himself for bringing the mason jar along on the fishing trip. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so, but it was always a bad idea. He blinked open his right eye. Billy had a tight grip on the rope attached to the boat.

  “All right,” Corbin said. “I’m going to sit up and see how I feel.”

  He hoisted himself up and hoped the light-headed sensation wouldn’t return. “I’m ready to get us out of here and take you home,” he said.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  Corbin looked at the boy. The obvious concern in Billy’s face and voice deeply touched him. If Corbin hadn’t already emptied his reservoir of tears at Kitty’s grave, he would have choked up.

  “Just hold the rope while I get the trailer.”

  Corbin struggled to his feet and stood still for a moment to make sure he could stand. Everything seemed to be working as it should. He lowered the handkerchief from his face, but the sudden flow of blood forced him to return it. The pressure from the handkerchief didn’t seem to be slowing the bleeding as much as it should. He made his way to the truck and got in.

  Corbin checked himself in the rearview mirror. There was a gash beneath his right eye that made him look like he’d been in a bare knuckle prizefight. The area around the eye would begin turning black over the next few hours. He needed to get Billy home.

  Holding the handkerchief against the cut with one hand, he used the other to turn the steering wheel as he backed the trailer close to the boat. Billy stood on the bank. Corbin attached the bow rope to the winch and let Billy turn the handle that pulled the lightweight boat onto the trailer. It was the first time Corbin had allowed the boy to operate the winch, and Billy did it exactly as he’d seen Corbin do it many times before.

  “Good job,” Corbin said. “Hop in. I’m going to take you home. I can unhook the boat and trailer later.”

  Corbin turned onto the main roadway. He lowered the handkerchief, now completely soaked in blood, and checked his face again in the mirror.

  Wide-eyed, Billy watched. “Pops, that looks terrible. Do you think you need to go to the hospital?”

  Corbin couldn’t deny that the cut was deep. Blood still seeped from the wound. “I want to take care of you first.”

  “There’s a boy at school who’s in the hospital. He has cancer,” Billy said. He turned his face toward Corbin. “What is cancer? I know it’s bad, but I don’t understand why it makes someone get sick and die.”

  Corbin kept the pressure on the cut with one hand and drove the truck with the other. His brain was foggy, but talking to Billy helped.

  “Uh, it’s when a part of the body won’t stop growing.” Corbin paused as he tried to think of a simple way to explain the disease. “When this cut on my face heals up, my body won’t keep making skin to cover the place that’s damaged. It’ll stop. Cancer doesn’t stop. It keeps on getting bigger and takes away nutrients from healthy parts of the body. Have you studied cells in science class ye
t?”

  “No.”

  “That’s the best I can do right now. There are different kinds of cancer that work against the body in different ways.” They reached the edge of town, and Corbin slowed to a stop as a light turned from yellow to red. “Who’s the sick boy?”

  “Josh. I don’t know his last name. He’s in Mrs. Ott’s class.”

  “Josh Watson.”

  “Yeah. One of the girls in my class said all his hair was going to fall out because of the medicine the doctors will give him. Is that true?”

  “It depends on the treatment, but it often happens. Usually the hair grows back.”

  Billy was quiet for a moment.

  “Some of the kids in his class are going to visit him at the hospital,” Billy continued. “I’d be afraid to go. I don’t want to catch cancer.”

  “It doesn’t work that way.”

  “How did he get it?”

  Corbin gripped the wheel tightly with his one hand as he turned onto the street where Ray and Cindy lived. A thought suddenly crossed his mind.

  “Maybe from the same place that made the fish at the pond sick.”

  Roxy had to wait over an hour for her flight to leave Chicago. She considered calling Mr. Caldweller to give him a preliminary report, but decided not to for a couple of reasons. First, she didn’t know if the senior partner would feel well enough to talk, and second, she didn’t want to rely on her memory to relay the information. She listened to part of the interview and began preparing a written summary on her laptop. She continued the process on the plane, but halfway through the flight to Atlanta fatigue hit, and she closed her eyes for a quick power nap.

  As she reached the platform for the MARTA station at the airport, Peter called.

  “Where are you?” he asked. “I called your office, and all they would tell me is that you weren’t available.”

  Roxy told him about her sudden trip.

  “That’s intense,” Peter replied. “I bet you’re exhausted.”

  “Yes, but I’d like to see you.”

  “I’ll pick you up at your station and take you out for a salad.”

  “Perfect.”

  Roxy crossed her legs and glanced out the window as the train rocked slightly back and forth on the rails. She and Peter had known each other for over a year and dated for nine months. The relationship began with a common interest in running, but Peter soon nudged her to talk about other things. At first this made Roxy uncomfortable, and she accused him of being nosy, but his persistent interest in her as a person finally won her over. As a computer geek, a large part of his brain was even more scientific than hers, but he possessed a significant dose of intuitive empathy.

  The train eased into the station. Peter, a broad smile on his face, stood on the platform wearing the khakis and collared shirt that were the business casual uniform at his office. A shade over five foot ten with dark hair and brown eyes, he had the slender, deceptively strong body of a triathlete.

  Roxy gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Thanks for picking me up,” she said. “After the day I’ve had, I’m glad to have someone take care of me.”

  During the short walk to the car, Peter filled her in on his day. An IT troubleshooter, he spent most of his time grinding out solutions to problems. His company worked in teams, but each analyst spent a lot of time alone. That made him more ready to talk in the evenings than Roxy, who often needed to unwind from intense interpersonal interaction.

  “Did you get in a workout this morning?” he asked as they reached his car, a small hybrid.

  “Yes. I was still trying to catch my breath when Caldweller called and told me I was going to Chicago.”

  Peter backed out of the parking space. The music that filled the car sounded unfamiliar.

  “What are you listening to?” she asked. The song had a peaceful, pleasant sound.

  “Christian worship,” Peter answered as he turned down the volume. “Noah from work suggested I download it. I went to church with him and his wife last Sunday while you were in Alto.”

  Roxy was surprised. Peter had never expressed an interest in religion. She’d stopped going to church when she left home for college.

  “Why were you interested in going to church?” she asked.

  “I wasn’t, but he took me to a place in Buckhead that was way more interesting than I thought possible.”

  “Are you going back?”

  Peter glanced sideways at her. “Yes, and I’d like to take you with me.”

  Billy ran into the house with his fishing pole in his hands. Corbin wanted to leave without saying anything to Ray or Cindy, but he knew that wasn’t an option. He couldn’t let Billy report the accident.

  Ray appeared in the front door before Corbin reached the steps to the house.

  “You’re a mess!” his son exclaimed.

  “Yeah, I need to go home and take care of this cut.”

  “No, no. Come inside. Billy said you may need to go to the hospital, and I agree with him.”

  Cindy joined Ray at the door and put her hand to her mouth in shock. Ray took hold of Corbin’s arm and guided him to the guest bathroom. Cindy and Billy followed close behind. They crowded into the small space. Cindy took a clean washcloth from the towel rack.

  “I don’t want to mess up a nice washcloth,” Corbin said.

  “Don’t be silly,” Cindy replied. “Billy, wait in the kitchen.”

  “I’ve already seen it,” the boy protested.

  “And once is enough,” Cindy responded. “Go!”

  Billy skulked away. Corbin lowered the handkerchief and replaced it with the slightly damp washcloth.

  “You’re going to need stitches,” Ray said when he saw the cut. “It’s hanging open.”

  “It stings a little bit, but the bleeding is way down.”

  Cindy watched with her lips pressed tightly together for a moment, then spoke. “How did it happen?”

  “I slipped while taking the boat out of the water and hit my face against the gunwale.”

  “Why did you slip?”

  Corbin looked in the mirror and saw Cindy’s eyes. “The grass was wet,” he replied tersely.

  “Any other contributing factors?” Cindy asked. “Isn’t that what a lawyer would ask?”

  Corbin didn’t respond, but rinsed out the cloth and returned it to his face. He needed to get away from his daughter-in-law’s accusing eyes.

  “Okay, I’ll go to the hospital,” he said.

  “I’ll drive you,” Ray said.

  “Will they do a blood test at the hospital?” Cindy asked. “You know, the kind that shows if there is alcohol in your system.”

  Corbin turned around and faced her. “Billy is fine,” he said, raising his voice. “The first thing in my mind was taking care of him. He’s home safe and sound. Isn’t that enough for you? You don’t have to turn this into some kind of inquisition.”

  “Dad, go easy with Cindy,” Ray interrupted. “This has been a hard day for us too.”

  “Why?” Corbin asked.

  “I lost my job.”

  FOURTEEN

  What?” Corbin asked.

  Ray looked at Cindy, who shrugged. “He’ll find out eventually,” she said.

  “I’ll tell you on the way to the hospital,” Ray said.

  He got an old but clean shirt from his closet and handed it to his father, who remained in the bathroom. He and Cindy stepped into the bedroom.

  “You know what he’s going to want you to do,” she said as soon as they were alone.

  “Yes, and now is as good a time as any to let him know that’s not an option.”

  Cindy ran her fingers through her hair and set her jaw. “And you’ve got to talk to him about Billy. Nothing horrible happened today, but I could tell he’d been drinking the second he came through the door. This was Billy’s last fishing trip. Mixing operation of a little boat with alcohol is dangerous enough; getting behind the wheel of his truck and driving is worse. I know he’ll pitch
a fit, but we can’t take a chance. If Billy got hurt I’d never forgive myself.”

  While he listened to Cindy gather steam, Ray tried to come up with a reason not to impose a total lockdown on Corbin’s independent relationship with his grandson, but he couldn’t. Cindy was right.

  “Do you want me to tell him that too?”

  “I don’t know if it has to be done tonight. But we can’t go on like this. I’m not going to change my mind.”

  Ray emerged from the bedroom and found Corbin and Billy sitting at the kitchen table. Corbin still had the washcloth pressed against the cut on his face. Reddish-blue discoloration was beginning to creep up toward his eye.

  “I’m thirsty,” Billy said, and got up to get himself a glass of water. “Do you want one too, Pops?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Did you drink all the water you had in that jar?”

  “Uh, no.”

  Ray glanced over his shoulder to see if Cindy had heard Billy’s question, but she hadn’t come out of the bedroom.

  “Why does a bruise look red before it turns black?” Billy asked Ray. “Pops doesn’t know.”

  “Uh, I think it’s because the blood under the skin is red and turns black as it dries.”

  Corbin reached over and patted Billy on the arm. “You did great taking care of everything at the pond when I slipped and fell. I’m proud of you.”

  “Okay,” Billy replied, lowering his eyes for a moment. Then he looked up. “I keep thinking about those dead fish. Are you going to tell Dad about them?”

  “Maybe, but we have other important things to talk about too.”

  Ray led the way from the house. They got into his car, and he maneuvered it around Corbin’s truck.

  “So why did you lose your job?” Corbin asked.

  “Steve found out I was talking to Simpkin, Brown, and Stamper about going to work with them and wasn’t willing to keep me employed while we worked out the details. The way he reacted makes me suspect he already had someone in mind for my position and was just using this as an excuse to get rid of me.”