Cold River

by Liz Adair

  “You’re right,” Leesie said as they pulled into the church parking lot. “If he’s at church today, I’ll make a point of asking him afterwards what he thought about the sermon.”

  Mandy found a parking space close to the back door. She dashed through the rain behind her sister and followed her into the church, catching sight of Grange across the foyer in a navy suit and a blue tie that made his eyes brilliant. It was the first time she had seen him dressed up, and something fluttered in her chest. She couldn’t seem to keep from glancing at him when he wasn’t looking, but she didn’t want to have to face him. Once they entered the chapel, she pulled Leesie into a pew on the other side of the aisle from the Timberlains, and as soon as the service was over, she bolted.

  Leesie followed her out the door. “What’s the hurry? Aren’t you going to stay and visit?”

  “Not today. I’ve got things to do at home.” Mandy unlocked the car and they got in.

  Her sister turned in her seat and continued to press. “What is so important at home?”

  Not willing to confess that she was embarrassed to meet Grange Timberlain, Mandy tried a diversion. “I didn’t see Rael.”

  “No. He had to go back east for something. I don’t know if it was the business or a tour.”

  Mandy drove slowly out of the parking lot. “Business? What business? He’s a mailman.”

  Leesie stared at her sister. “You mean you don’t know that he’s a luthier?”

  “A what? A Lutheran?”

  Leesie giggled. “A luthier. He builds guitars. Really, really good ones. People pay thousands and thousands of dollars for his guitars. He built the one I have in my bedroom.”

  “Thousands of dollars? And you have it just leaning up against the wall in your bedroom?”

  “It’s okay, Mandy. That’s what Jake said to do.”

  “You mentioned a tour. Rael told me he had quit performing.”

  “It’s something for the National Endowment for the Arts.” Leesie thought a moment. “Do I have that right? It’s a concert about different guitar-playing styles. Roots music, I think. Very PBS.”

  “When will he be home?” Mandy asked. “He won’t miss the festival, will he?”

  “He’ll be here for the opening ceremony on Friday, I know. There’s going to be some big announcement that concerns him.”

  “Leesie, how do you know all this?”

  She shrugged. “I listen, I guess. You know, this is going to be such an exciting week. I’m so glad Mom is coming.”

  “Oh my gosh! I forgot! Where are we going to bed people down?”

  “Mom’s coming alone, so I’ll give her my room and sleep on the couch. You’ll be on your own to shop and get ready,” Leesie warned. “I’m going to be buried in festival prep.”

  Monday morning, as Mandy sat in her office, she reflected that, besides Nettie Maypole, she must be the only person in Limestone not involved in getting ready for the festival. Everyone seemed to have a mission. Somehow, Mandy had hoped for a change after Saturday night— a sign that she was accepted, like being asked to help with the festival. Forgetting that she had pointedly ignored Grange the day before, she pulled down the corners of her mouth when she saw that he was calendared out of his office all week long.

  Her dark mood disappeared with Mrs. Reilly’s appearance Monday afternoon. The reading teacher announced she had arranged for a sub for the next three days and that she wanted to spend however long it took working out details of Mandy’s proposal for revamping the reading program.

  “It’s all well and good for Grange and half the district to take off two weeks for Opening Festival, but some of us have to make sure that education happens,” Mrs. Reilly declared. She also mentioned that Grange had given the meeting his blessing.

  Mandy agreed with Mrs. Reilly’s stand on the festival and gave her all the time not already commandeered by Nettie. As they worked together, Mandy found the reading teacher knowledgeable, pragmatic, and not the least bit hesitant to say what would not work and why. The result was that, after a three-day marathon, they ended up with a workable plan, a schedule, and ideas for funding.

  On Monday morning, Mandy had accepted an invitation to go to dinner with Vince that evening. In Sunday morning’s cold, gray light, Mandy had realized that the night before she might have given Vince a signal that their relationship had taken a step toward physical intimacy, and she was determined to flash an amber light. As they sat in a corner booth at Bobo’s Burgers in Stallo, and Vince reached over to take her hand, Mandy took a deep breath and plunged in. “Vince, I need to talk to you.”

  He looked a little startled, but said, “Okay, go ahead.” He didn’t release her hand.

  “How much time have we actually spent together?”

  He smiled. “Not nearly enough.”

  “Be serious. We’ve talked at the district offices a couple of times, once in my office, and once through your car window. We spent a part of a day together, and Saturday night we spent an hour or so at the concert.”

  “And a half hour in the parking lot. Don’t forget that.”

  Mandy gently pulled her hand away. “That’s what I’m talking about. I can’t blame it on the moonlight, since there wasn’t any, but I was carried away by… something, and I acted completely out of character.”

  Vince sat back and regarded her. “You looked glad to see me. Was that out of character?”

  “No. I was glad to see you. But I don’t really know you. You don’t know me or what I expect in a relationship, and I don’t know what you expect when we get to the end of what we began in the parking lot. I don’t want either of us to be surprised or hurt.”

  His white teeth flashed. “I like the sound of that— that we began something in the parking lot.”

  “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t want to complicate the getting-to-know process by a physical entanglement. What I want is more than a lover, more than monogamous till death, and until you can understand all that entails, I don’t want to muddy the water.”

  “Is there more than monogamous till death?” he asked.

  “To me there is. I think a couple needs to have a common goal. They need to be willing to work together for things they’re passionate about.” Mandy was going to continue, but she was interrupted by the sound of Vince’s phone ringing.

  “Sorry,” he said. He checked the caller’s number and swore under his breath. The phone rang twice more before he said, “I’m expecting a call. Do you mind?”

  She shook her head, and he rose. As he walked away, she heard him say, “Hi, Doc.”

  While she waited, she finished her burger. Vince returned and asked if she minded if they left right then. “I’ve got a ton of stuff to do, and something has come up. We can work on getting better acquainted on the ride home.” He held out his hand to help her out of the booth, and as she stood, he looked down at her with warm, expressive eyes. “I’ve learned that good things, like good wine, often take time to happen. I’ll wait.”

  “Interesting analogy,” Mandy said dryly.

  They talked about lots of things on the way home, but Vince carried the burden of the conversation, obviously trying to shepherd the acquaintance process. When they got to her house, he put his arm around her shoulders as they ran through the pelting rain to the door. Then he kissed her on the cheek and said, “I’m crazy about you, Mandy, though it may not seem like it this next week.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My schedule and yours will make it so we won’t have any time to work on our getting to know you project. But next week should see everything taken care of. Dinner next Monday for sure?”

  “For sure,” she said.

  He paused in the shelter of the doorway. “The river is coming up pretty fast with all this rain, but it shouldn’t overtop the dike they put in after your house got flooded last time. Keep an eye on it. Even if the dike should break, it wouldn’t do anything more than inconvenience you and wet your rugs. Call me i
f you see it leaking water. You’ve got my phone number?”

  “Yes. You gave it to me— oh, it seems so long ago, but it was just weeks. Thank you, Vince. Good night.”

  “Good night.” He sprinted through the downpour to his car, and Mandy went inside, trying to decide whether she was happy or sad about the fact that she didn’t have to face the complications of a relationship with Vince for a week.

  She may not have had to face it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t on her mind. She was glad for meetings with Nettie and Mrs. Reilly that tore her attention away from Vince’s plans for her future. And from Grange’s empty office.

  Every day, Mandy tried to get in touch with Fran to let her know she wasn’t leaving, that she didn’t want out of her lease. She tried Fran’s house and her office, but the phone rang and rang without the answering machine picking up. Mandy called the Qwik-E Market on Wednesday afternoon and when Elizabeth answered she asked if she knew what Fran’s schedule was.

  “I haven’t seen her, actually,” Elizabeth said. “Mr. Laffitte has been managing the stores this week because Fran is getting ready for an audit next week. She’s been really grouchy, so I’m not sorry she’s not here, but Mr. Laffitte is a bit of a slave driver.”

  “If you see Fran, please tell her I need to talk to her,” Mandy said.

  Elizabeth said she would, but it wasn’t until Thursday that Mandy was able to talk to Fran. The driving, soaking deluge that had poured down since Saturday night finally stopped, but Mandy was aware that the river would continue rising for a while, and she wanted to check on the dike above her house. When her work session with Mrs. Reilly ended at noon, she headed home.

  Mandy was slowing down to turn off onto the gravel road when she saw that Fran was home. She drove there instead, catching her friend as she was getting in her car. Mandy pulled into the driveway, turned off the key, and jumped out. “Fran, I’m so glad I caught you. I’ve been trying to reach you by phone.”

  At her greeting, Fran turned. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore no makeup on her flat, round face. Dark circles under her eyes accentuated an unusual pallor, and Mandy exclaimed, “Oh, Fran! Are you all right?”

  “I’m just tired. Vince isn’t paying me enough for all the responsibility I shoulder. When this audit is over, I’m going to hit him up for a raise.”

  “Well, here’s one less thing for you to worry about. I’m not leaving.”

  Fran’s reaction was almost a snarl. “What?”

  For a moment Mandy could only stand with her mouth open. “I’m staying,” she repeated. “At least through the end of the school year.”

  Fran’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. “So you caved. I thought you were built of stronger stuff.”

  “What are you talking about, Fran?”

  “Do you know what Grange says about you? He doesn’t want you here. He says he wants to find whoever made your wheel fall off and give him a medal. He says some of the things you do are so wrongheaded it curls his hair, and the happiest day of his life will be when he sees your shirttail hitting your backside as you leave town.”

  Mandy felt tears welling. “Fran, why are you saying this?”

  “To help you. Wise up! You think that because Grange invited you into his office for a cozy little chat that he’s fallen for you, but I’m here to tell you that ain’t so. He and I have an understanding. He’s mine, Mandy.”

  Fran got in her pickup, slammed the door, and started the engine, but seconds later she rolled down her window. “And here’s another thing. Those incidents stopped when I put out word you were leaving. Don’t be surprised when they start up again. People want you gone. I won’t be responsible for what happens because you’re so stubborn.”

  Mandy felt as if someone had hit her in the chest with a sledgehammer. Hugging her arms close, she bent over and turned away as Fran spun gravel driving away. Long after the sound of her pickup had faded in the distance, Mandy stayed, leaning against her car for support because her knees had gone weak. “You and Grange?” she asked the silent, empty air. “You and Grange?

  MANDY WAS SO debilitated by her meeting with Fran that she almost forgot what she had driven home for. After she finally got in her car and drove down the gravel road, she saw the river in the distance and remembered the dike.

  She parked and trudged upstairs to put on her sweats and running shoes. Though she didn’t feel like it, she forced herself to head out on a trail through the woods to a place where she could look down on the barrier thrown up to protect the house. From where she stood, everything looked fine. The water still had a foot to go to reach the top, and the downstream side of the dike was dry.

  Mandy was grateful for that assurance, but it didn’t displace the hollow feeling in her breast. She recognized a return of the dark emptiness she’d felt as she watched the lights of Albuquerque in her rearview mirror. “So, is that what it is, Dr. Stinkbug?” Her voice sounded loud in the stillness of the woods. “You’re in love with Grange Timberlain?”

  Sighing, she looked back towards her house, not quite ready to face a long afternoon alone shadowed by the memory of Fran reaching up to ruffle the hair at the nape of Grange’s neck. Instead, she turned upriver and began to trot along a path that, she suspected, would bring her to the familiar one that followed the riverbank.

  She found the trail presently and quickened her pace, trying to outrun the memory of Fran’s words. He wants you gone. The things you do are so wrongheaded, it curls his hair. He’s mine. When she came to the place in the pine plantation that led out to Timberlain Road, Mandy didn’t even pause but continued at a punishing pace alongside the river. She was in new territory now, and in places the trail ran perilously close to the edge. She slowed her pace in those areas because the path was ribbed by the roots of trees and bushes that grew beside the trail and sprang from the steep sides of the riverbank.

  Mandy had run almost to the limit of her endurance when she finally stopped to rest. Standing with her hands on her hips, she looked down at the dark, swirling water below as she inhaled air heavily laden with the scent of pine. The only sound she could hear above her own breathing was the river, but as respiration grew easier, she heard voices.

  Thinking that she might be able to beg a drink of water, she walked toward the sound, making her way through the trees and sparse undergrowth. The voice she heard was deep and booming with a strange accent. The man was complaining about the cold, and as she stepped into a clearing, she saw him. Dressed in a blue jacket and watch cap, he bent over a large metal apparatus and stuffed wood into a firebox. It took her only a moment to process the meaning of the circular vat and the loops of metal tubing to realize this must be the still that Doc MacDonald had talked about.

  Instinctively, she stepped back into the cover of the bushes, but at that moment, the man in the watch cap shut the firebox door, turned around, and spied her. He looked African American and loomed taller than she expected, with muscular arms and a neck as thick as a small tree. He raised a ham-like hand to his mouth and hollered, “Hey, Grange! You got a visitor.”

  “Grange?” Mandy whispered. As he stepped out from behind the steaming still, Mandy remembered Mo saying, “Grange brings a lot of money to the district.” Mo wouldn’t tell her how Grange got the money, but right here, right now, the means was graphically evident, and it was criminal. She had fallen in love with a crook.

  She felt her diaphragm tighten, and saliva streamed into her mouth as she turned and began to run back the way she came, afraid that at any moment she was going to be sick to her stomach.

  She heard Grange call her name, but that only propelled her faster. Crashing through the bushes, she finally came to the trail. As she paused to catch her breath, she tried to will the nausea away.

  “Mandy, wait!”

  She could see glimpses of Grange’s blue shirt through the branches that were just now beginning to leaf out. Panicked by the thought that he might catch her, she sprinted down the trai
l, her mouth open as she gasped for air. A bothersome black edge appeared around her field of vision, and she shook her head to clear her sight as she plowed on. She could hear the pounding of his footsteps behind her, and when she looked over her shoulder to see where he was, her toe struck a root. She stumbled forward out of control, arms windmilling as she tried to stay upright. She almost managed it, but the last step she took was only half on the trail. The end of her foot hung in thin air, and when the ground under her heel crumbled away, she felt herself pitching head first over the edge. Frantically, she grabbed at the bushes growing on the vertical bank, snared a slender willow, and hung suspended in midair.

  “Mandy!” Grange bellowed. “Mandy!” He sounded frantic.

  “Here,” she croaked, but she knew he couldn’t hear her.

  “Mandy!” He was right above her.

  She looked up and saw him sliding on his belly over the edge, reaching out his hands to her. He seemed to be hanging by his toes, and he stretched his fingers out to touch her hand.

  “Can you climb up the branch?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t have the strength.”

  “Yes, you do. Look at me! Mandy, look at me. You can. Six inches higher, and I can reach you.”

  She looked into his eyes, but just then the willow tore away from the bank, and she dropped another foot. Held only by two cord-like roots, she was a few scant feet above the murky floodwater.

  “Mandy, listen. Moses is going to pull me up, and I’m going to send him for a rope. Hang on tight, and we’ll get you out of there soon. Don’t be afraid. Hang on tight.”

  As she dangled from the willow branch and watched Grange disappear over the edge, she suddenly felt the full weight of her peril.

  “Grange!” she shouted.

  His head appeared over the bank. “I’m here. I’ve sent Moses back for a rope.”

  “I don’t know how long I can hang on.”

  “You can do it, Mandy. You’ve got strong hands. You’ll manage.”