“Boy, there’s food here. Money. If you’re out there listenin’, it’s for you.”
Chantry didn’t move. His heart hammered so loud in his chest it was a wonder Dempsey didn’t hear it. If he did, he didn’t say anything, just turned around and went back into the house. It was so tempting to go up on that porch and knock on the door, to let Dempsey make decisions. He wanted to. God, he wanted to just stop worrying and let someone else do it for a while.
But life didn’t work that way. Not his life, anyway.
When the lights went out in Dempsey’s living room, he stood up and walked to the edge of the yard. The bucket gleamed softly in the dim light of a crescent moon. He picked it up and took it with him, back into the woods, back to the river. Maybe he was on his own, but he wasn’t alone.
They might have stayed another night since it didn’t seem anyone was looking for them very hard, but early the next morning Chantry heard footsteps outside the cave and sat up, tensing as Shadow came up bristling and growling low in his throat. Mikey was still asleep, sprawled out on the blankets with his arms flung over his head.
Chantry stood up, stooping a little since he’d gotten too tall to stand up straight inside the hideout. He didn’t know who he might have expected to see staring back at him when he looked out the entrance, but it certainly wasn’t Chris Quinton.
“Thought you’d be here,” Chris said, and came inside without being invited. He looked at Mikey, watched Shadow warily when he showed his teeth.
Chantry put a hand atop the dog’s head. “Stay, Shadow. What do you want?”
“Everyone’s looking for you. If you stay here, they’ll find you eventually.”
“With your help, I guess.”
“No. If I was going to do that, they’d be here now.” Chris glanced around the cave, then back at Chantry. “Think what you want. I never told anyone about this place.”
“Tansy brought you here?”
“Kinda. I followed her one time. She was mad about it at first, but then—she said you never came anymore, so it didn’t matter.”
Chantry didn’t say anything. He guessed he could understand. Maybe it didn’t matter. It’d stopped being their special place the night he’d not understood what she was trying to tell him.
“What are you gonna do?” Chris asked after a minute. When Chantry just looked at him, he smiled slightly. “Yeah, I guess I don’t blame you for not wanting to tell. Look, I told Cinda you’d be okay, that you know how to take care of yourself. You’re not like me.”
“Cinda—is she okay?”
“Sure. Still mad at her parents, but that’s nothing new. She was always a lot stronger than me anyway. Doesn’t mind standing up and saying what she thinks, like I do.”
“I never noticed you having that problem so much,” Chantry said, looking at Chris with narrowed eyes. “You said plenty a few times.”
“Not to my parents. Or my Granddad.” Chris gave him a strange look. “You really don’t get it, do you? You think I’ve got it made, living in that house. Money’s not everything.”
Maybe that was true. He’d said something like that to Mama once, and she’d given him a look very close to the one Chris gave him now, like he didn’t understand at all.
“So why are you here?” he asked when the silence began to stretch too long. “Just to tell me I don’t know anything?”
“No. To tell you to get out of Cane Creek. If you stay, my grandfather will see to it that you end up in state custody. With your prior arrests, you may end up in a lot worse than a foster home.”
“And that would bother you?”
“There’s prisons and there’s prisons. I don’t like being caged either. Do what you want. I warned you.”
“Hey, Chris,” he said as he turned to leave, “thanks.”
Chris stood outside the cave for a moment, looking at him. Then he nodded.
Chantry gave him time to get out of sight then nudged Mikey awake. Maybe Chris really did mean to help, maybe he didn’t. But he didn’t intend to take any chances. Mikey sat up and rubbed sleepily at his eyes.
“Come on, sport, we gotta go.”
“Where?”
It’d come to him earlier, while he lay listening to Mikey and the dog snore. He’d looked at the box he’d saved from the garage, with all Mama’s letters, and suddenly he’d known where they could go. Where Mikey could go. He wasn’t at all sure where he’d end up, but he knew he’d do what he had to for Mikey first.
He kept to the side roads, traveling mainly at night. They’d be too easily recognized, a boy, a crippled kid, and a lame dog. During daylight, he got his bearings by keeping the east on his right and the west on his left, but the roads didn’t always go straight and sometimes he found himself facing into the afternoon sun. They stuck to little used roads, stopped in at country stores to buy soft drinks and sandwiches, using the money Dempsey had put in the bucket. Chantry made Mikey and Shadow stay out of sight. Most people may not remember a teenage boy, but a kid in pajamas and braces and the Catahoula would be quickly remembered.
It’d have been a lot simpler to follow 61 Highway north, but he took Highway 3 that ran parallel. Most of the time he carried Mikey on his back. It was easier except for the arguing. A lot of determination ran deep inside Mikey, and he was sure he could manage to walk on his own.
After two nights, Chantry wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk much longer. It was dark, he was hungry again, and his feet hurt, stuck in a pair of old boots he’d managed to find in the half-burned garage. He’d risked going back because he had to have something on his bare feet, but hadn’t been prepared for a closer look. The garage was the only structure left of Mama’s house, tilting drunkenly to one side, leaning over the dog pen. Time and gravity would pull it over eventually, if someone didn’t go out to do it before then.
It’d felt weird going back, with strong whiffs of smoke still on the wind, and he’d wondered if the firefighters had pulled Rainey out before he’d burned as black as the roof timbers lying in rubble. He hadn’t asked Chris, wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Rainey was gone, burned up just like all of Mama’s money. It seemed fitting. Wasteful, but fitting.
“Chantry,” Mikey said against his ear, head bobbing on his shoulder and his arms around his neck, “are we close to where we’re goin’ yet?”
“Not too far.” Thirty-two miles. It seemed like three hundred. His feet dragged, his back hurt, his muscles ached, and he didn’t like walking too close to the highway like they were doing. All he needed was for one police cruiser to stop and ask questions. It’d be all over then. But the shoulder of the road ran out where he had to cross a concrete bridge over the Coldwater River.
They were halfway across the bridge when headlights swept over them. He kept going, hoping this car would pass like all the others. It didn’t. It slowed, lights flicked on bright, then dimmed.
Chantry clenched his teeth, head down, holding onto Mikey’s legs with Shadow beside. The lights came closer, engine humming, and then the vehicle cut in front of him. He stopped.
“Hey boy, looks like you all need a ride.”
Dempsey looked at him out the passenger window. Chantry didn’t hesitate. He opened the door, swung Mikey in first, then the dog, then himself. They crowded up on that bench seat, the backpack Mikey wore bunching up behind him as Dempsey gave the old truck some gas and they rolled across the Coldwater River.
“Know where you’re goin’?” Dempsey asked after a few minutes.
“North. For now.”
“Guess that’ll do.”
They rode a few more miles, Chantry resting his head back against the rear window, just letting the wind blow in on him and the miles pass by. Then he said, “How’d you know where to look for us?”
“Lucky guess. Naw, that’s a lie. I been lookin’ for you two days now, ridin’ up and down all the roads. Stopped in a few places and asked. One or two remembered seein’ you.”
“Anyone else looking?”
> “Other than state troopers and every police force ole man Quinton could get hold of, no. I don’t know how you got this far, boy, I swear I don’t.”
“Me, either.”
“But now you’re here,” Mikey said with a sigh. “Can we go home with you?”
Silence fell. “Reckon that wouldn’t help you out none, son,” Dempsey said after a couple of minutes went by. “There’s folks in Cane Creek got other ideas about where you two boys should be.”
“I’ve heard.” Chantry shifted to move the backpack with Mama’s box in it off Mikey’s shoulders. He’d bought the cheap backpack at a truckstop to make it easier for them to manage, but it was already coming apart at the seams. “Quinton’s awful intent on making sure I’m where he can keep me in his sights.”
“I noticed. You got on his wrong side somehow, boy.”
Chantry told him what Rainey had done with Mama’s insurance money. “I can’t prove it, but I know Quinton fixed it so that money would all go to Rainey instead of in a fund for Mikey. I don’t care about me, but—” He glanced at his brother, but Mikey’s head rested against Dempsey and his eyes were closed. “But he stole from Mikey when it could be used for his legs. Not that it matters now about the money. It’s gone. Burned up in the fire.”
Another couple of miles rolled past before Dempsey said anything. “Where you boys headed?”
“Memphis.”
“Any place special?”
“Yeah, but I’d as soon not tell you. No one can expect you to tell what you don’t know. By the time I do what I gotta do, it won’t matter anymore if Quinton knows where we went.”
God, he hoped that was true. It was his last hope. He had no guarantees, but he’d come too far to quit now. He’d see it out. He’d make it all right for Mikey and for Shadow because that was about all he could do. After that, whatever happened to him just happened.
A green and white sign announced they’d passed into Tennessee, and Chantry looked over at Dempsey. Weary lines creased his eyes and cheeks as he turned to look back at him. “Boy, I never told you this, but you’re the closest thing to a son of my own I ever had or would want to have. I’m proud of you. Proud to know you. Whatever happens, if there’s ever anything I can do, I’ll do it.”
“Yeah,” Chantry said when he could speak, “I always knew that.”
It was hard saying goodbye. When he saw a familiar landmark, the Methodist Hospital, he had Dempsey pull over. He stood by the truck and looked at Dempsey and wondered if he’d ever see him again, or if he’d just fade into the past like Tansy. A memory, like Mama. But at least this time, he got to say goodbye.
Dempsey hugged him tightly, not letting go for a minute, then insisted that Chantry take a wad of money. “No, you take it. I got some put by. I can’t do much for Tansy now, but I can do this for you, Chantry.” His voice was gruff, thick with emotion, and Chantry had to suck in a deep breath to keep his own voice steady.
“I’ll pay you back.”
“Son, just take care of yourself. Can’t ask for more’n that.”
When they walked away he wouldn’t let himself look back even though he knew Dempsey was watching them, knew if he did he might not be able to keep going. He thought of what Tansy had said one time, about the light at the end of a tunnel just being another tunnel, and knew now what she’d meant. That’s what this felt like. One more tunnel.
Lights were on in the house on Peabody Avenue, gleaming out the front windows. He swung Mikey down from his back, steadied him with a hand on his shoulder then rang the bell. He heard it chime. It was dark on the porch, only light from the windows illuminating the shadows. It seemed to take forever, but finally the overhead porch light switched on, and the front door swung open.
It was the same lady he’d seen before, wearing an apron and looking at them with a faintly startled expression. “Yes? Are you boys out this late selling something?”
“No, ma’am.” Chantry tried to keep his voice steady, but fear gripped him that he’d be too late, that they’d be gone out of the country again and all this would be for nothing. “Is Doctor Callahan in?”
“Well, it’s rather late, young man. If this is an emergency, perhaps it’d be better if you—wait. Haven’t I seen you before?”
“Yes, ma’am. You gave me and my brother some cookies one time.”
“Of course.” She peered beyond them into the darkness. “Is your mother with you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“She’s dead,” Mikey said, and then to Chantry’s horror, Mikey began to cry, great huge sobs and exhausted tears flowing down his dusty face as he stared up at the woman. “Mama’s dead and my brother brought me a long way, and I’m tired.”
“Good Lord,” she said faintly, but the door swung wide and she motioned for them to come inside, obviously perturbed. This was not the reception Chantry had expected or wanted. He hung back. The woman stared at him for a moment then her gaze dropped to the dog. “Oh. Oh, dear. Well. I . . . I don’t know quite what—”
“Is there a problem here, Bettie?”
She half-turned toward the man coming down the stairs. “I’m not at all certain exactly what to do, Doctor. These young men—well, they’ve been here before. He’s asking for you.”
Chantry stared at the older man crossing the entrance hall. Mama’s father. He was nothing like he’d thought he’d be. Tall, slender, with thick gray and black hair, he paused to stare at them. He had Mama’s blue eyes.
“I don’t believe I know you, young man. Are you a former patient?”
“I’m your grandson.” He hadn’t meant to say it like that, but nothing so far had been like he’d thought it’d be or intended either. The woman named Bettie made a funny sound in the back of her throat, but his grandfather’s eyes cooled to frost.
“You’re mistaken.” His words were clipped, tone brusque. “I have no grandchildren.”
“I’m Carrie’s son.” Anger sparked when the doctor started to turn away, and he stepped forward, forgetting Mikey standing there, forgetting the dog and the open door and the woman named Bettie. “Don’t you goddamn turn away from me like you did her. I may not give a damn about you either, but you’re all Mikey has and by God, you’ll do what’s right for him.”
So much for tact. So much for all the careful words he’d planned to say.
Doctor Callahan paused, brows lowering over his eyes. “Bettie, call the police.”
Bettie stood as if frozen. Chantry’s hands knotted into fists. Shadow growled. It was that last that turned his grandfather’s attention toward Mikey and the dog at his side. For a moment he just stared at them so long that Chantry thought maybe he’d changed his mind.
But then he shook his head as if waking from a dream, and looked back up at Chantry, his tone fierce. “Get out of my house. Now.”
Shadow barked loudly, a warning snarl, and Chantry reached quickly for his collar to hold him. Mikey hadn’t said a word since bursting into tears, and now he just sat down hard on the stoop of the still open door, his braces banging against the frame.
“What on earth is going on out here?” a woman’s voice said, and Bettie turned toward her with a dazed expression.
“These children—”
“Are leaving,” the doctor snapped.
Chantry glared at him, anger and disappointment rising so hot and thick in his chest that he didn’t think he could say a word, not that it’d help anyway.
“But who are they, Michael?” The woman appeared just behind him, and when she saw Chantry she frowned. He knew how he must look, dirty and shabby and rough, with cast-off clothes and road dust. For a long moment she studied him; then the bewilderment in her eyes slowly altered to dawning recognition. But it was when she turned to look at Mikey that it must have hit her, and her hand rose to her throat, fingers brushing over the gold necklace she wore. “I know who they are,” she whispered then, “my God, I know . . .”
“Patricia, we don’t know anything of the sort.”
She turned to him, and there was a set to her jaw that reminded Chantry of Mama as she said quietly, “I know that I won’t allow you to deny these children like you have our daughter. I’ve spent too many years without Carrie to risk one more moment. No, if she’s finally put aside her anger enough to come back to us at last, our door will be open. To her and the children.”
Chantry said abruptly, “She’s dead. And I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me here. But Mikey needs you. He’s little yet, and his legs . . . he needs to be here.”
For a moment no one spoke, though his grandmother sucked in a sharp breath and her brown eyes filled with tears. She put out a hand to him but he didn’t move to take it, just stared at her, uncertain of anything but that he was using his last reserves to be sure Mikey had a place.
“Did you know my mama?” Mikey asked from where he sat in the doorway, and she looked down at him. Then she knelt on the floor and cupped his chin in her palm.
“Yes, I knew your mama very well. A long time ago. You look so like her . . . oh God.” Her voice broke on the last word, and suddenly she was sobbing, pulling Mikey to her, hugging him without regard to his dirty face or clothes, or the dog giving her a hard stare.
Chantry kept his eyes on the doctor. It all seemed to have taken hours, but only a minute or two must have passed. If he felt anything at hearing that his daughter was dead, he didn’t show it, but stood there rigidly, staring back at Chantry.
Then his grandmother was standing up, pulling Mikey with her, her voice still thick and shaky as she asked Bettie to please see there were clean linens on the beds, that they’d be staying in the upstairs guest rooms. Chantry didn’t move.
“I won’t be staying,” he said. “I just brought Mikey. He needs you. I don’t.”
Dark River Road Page 34