Wuther

by V. J. Chambers

  “Okay,” said Heath.

  “Okay?”

  He nodded, looking sidelong at her, his expression confused. “Okay.”

  She gazed at him, at his luminous black eyes. She drowned in them. “But you like the farm. Would you come to the city if I wanted it?”

  “Sure,” he said. He put a hand on her knee and rubbed it. “Why don’t you take it easy, huh? I think you’re worried about Fran. We can talk about this another time.”

  But she was too stunned. “You were so mad at Matt for trying to sell the farm. I thought you loved it.”

  “I love you way more than the farm. If you don’t want to be there, I don’t want to be there either.”

  She sank into her seat, relieved and anxious all at the same time.

  * * *

  Matt met Cathy in the lobby. He was holding Gage, and both he and the baby were sobbing. Matt thrust the child into her arms.

  Cathy tried to calm the baby down. “Shh, shh.” She rocked him.

  “He knows,” said Matt, his face crumpling. “He can tell she’s gone.”

  “Matt, what’s going on?” said Cathy. “What happened?”

  “I lost control,” said Matt. “I shouldn’t have had that last beer. I thought it would be okay. Just one more drink. But I was shaky, and I was having trouble with the car. The steering wheel was so hard to turn.”

  The pieces were all coming together for Cathy. “You wrecked the car?”

  “She’s dead, Cathy,” said Matt. “She’s dead.”

  2013

  The crawlspace above the front door was dank and dirty, and she barely fit in there with Gage, whose hand was clapped over her mouth. He held her tight against him, her back to his front. She could feel his breath on her neck.

  She could smell him. He smelled like sweat and dirt and motor oil. She should have been repulsed by it. But for some reason, something about it was pleasant, just like there was something nice about the contours of Gage’s body against hers.

  She was appalled by her enjoyment of it.

  It was some kind of Stockholm syndrome or something. Or maybe she’d been in this farmhouse for so long that the craziness had worn off on her.

  Gage was hiding her in here so that the police couldn’t find her.

  They were here. Searching the house.

  She could hear their steps as they wandered through the rooms, muffled laughter and voices from far away.

  And Gage gripped her, held her tightly, and she was enveloped in his smell.

  She shut her eyes.

  Everything was too horrible for words.

  The sound of a door opening. Close by.

  The police were coming into the room. She was inside this crawlspace, only a thin wall between her and the police. Not that they’d see the opening. It looked like a panel of wood like all the others on the wall.

  “Sorry again about this, Mr. Galloway,” a voice was saying. The man had a thick accent. “You know how those city folk are. We got to check everything out. He even tried to come down here with us, but we kept him out.”

  He? Was that her father?

  Thera struggled in Gage’s arms. She needed to make noise. She needed to let the police know she was there.

  “I thank you for that,” said Heath’s voice. “Eli Linton and I have a bad history. I have to say I’m horrified to think that he’d accuse me of kidnapping, however. Especially when it was him who tried to keep my own son from me all those years ago.”

  Kept his son? What was he even talking about? Did it matter?

  Thera elbowed Gage in the ribs.

  Gage made a soft sound of irritation. His grip on her loosened a little bit.

  “Did he now?”

  “Yes,” said Heath. “He tried to take Linton from me. I had to get the law involved. It was quite terrible. Especially after I’d been through so much, losing the boy’s mother to suicide and everything.” Heath managed to sound truly sad about it.

  Thera hated him. She wrenched her arm free of Gage.

  “What a nutcase. Well, Mr. Galloway, I assure you that we’ll take his accusations with a grain of salt from now on. Everyone in town knows what a great man you are. All the money you donate to causes. And taking in the son of poor Matt Earnshaw.”

  “Stepson,” said Heath. “Gage has no living relatives.”

  Cathy banged her hand against the wall of the crawlspace.

  Gage wrapped his arm around her again, pinning her hand against her. He swore softly under his breath.

  “What was that?”

  “What was what?” said Heath.

  “I heard something. In the walls.”

  “Oh, well, we have a bit of a rodent infestation, I’m sorry to say,” said Heath. “These old houses, it’s hard to find every little nook or cranny they can get in.”

  Thera tried to thrash, tried to get free again, but Gage held onto her so tightly she could hardly breathe.

  “Right. Rodents.”

  And the door closed.

  No. Thera felt tears spring to her eyes. She was never going to get out of here, was she?

  1993

  Matt was drunk at Fran’s viewing, drunker than Cathy had ever seen him. He spent all his time standing byFran’s casket, sometimes bent over her body, weeping loudly, sometimes holding onto it for dear life. If he did let go, he was so drunk that he stumbled.

  Cathy had to watch Gage the entire time. The baby was far too young to have any idea what was going on, but he cried too, piteously, and nothing Cathy did could make him quieter. Eventually, both Gage and Matt cried themselves out. Gage fell asleep in her arms, and Matt collapsed in a chair next to the casket, where he snored loudly.

  Cathy supposed she would have been embarrassed if many people had shown up to the viewing, but it was a sparse crowd, only a few of Fran’s old friends and some neighbors.

  The funeral the following day was even less well attended.

  The pews of the church were mostly empty, but Cathy was surprised when she looked back and saw Eli Linton and his sister arrive. They were both dressed in black, and their clothes were so nice that they made Cathy feel self-conscious. She didn’t own a black dress, and so she’d been forced to wear the next best thing—a navy blue polka dot number. It was a little bit too small for her because she hadn’t worn it in years, and she couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t somber enough. The polka dots seemed too festive.

  Matt was even drunker than he had been at the viewing. Cathy had been frightened to have him behind the wheel of the car before they left. She’d tried to convince him to let Heath drive them, but Matt was adamant that Heath shouldn’t come anywhere near the funeral. Matt had thrust the keys into her hand. Which was sort of all right. She could drive. She’d been driving old, farm-use vehicles all over the property since she was twelve or thirteen. But if they’d gotten pulled over, she knew she would have been in trouble. Luckily, that didn’t happen.

  The pastor droned on about Fran from the pulpit. He said she’d been a loving, Christian woman, and that she was looking down on everyone from her place with the angels.

  Cathy couldn’t help rolling her eyes. The pastor had never even met Fran. He didn’t know anything about her.

  He continued on with his sermon, talking about the fires of hell, and how he just knew that Fran wished each and every one of them would come to know Jesus as their personal savior.

  Cathy hoped it would all be over soon.

  And eventually, it was. They got into the procession and followed the hearse out to the graveyard. Fran was being buried in the family plot, because Matt insisted that she was like family to him. Cathy didn’t care one way or another. She thought that maybe everyone should be cremated instead of taking up all this space. If all the people who ever lived on earth got buried, how long would it take before there wasn’t any room to bury anyone?

  She held Gage while the casket was lowered and patted Matt on the back while he cried some more. She’d never seen her brother
cry this much.

  After everything was over, Eli and Isabella came over to her.

  Cathy wasn’t sure what to say to them. She supposedly had a relationship with Eli, but it was tough to be sure how to act in a situation like this. She bounced Gage on her hip and tried to smile at them.

  Eli touched her shoulder. He looked like he was going to say something, but then he closed his mouth.

  Isabella threw her arms around Cathy, however. “You poor thing. First your father, now this. It’s awful. And Fran was so young. And your brother is so sad. This is probably the worst thing that I’ve ever seen happen to someone. The absolute worst.”

  Cathy looked at her toes. “We’ll be all right.”

  “And this must be her baby,” said Isabella. “Little motherless thing.” She stroked the top of his head. “You poor, poor little guy.”

  There was a light touch on Cathy’s shoulder. She turned to see Mrs. Dean, her neighbor from down the road. “Cathy, would you like to go off with your friends for a little while?” said Mrs. Dean.

  “Oh,” said Cathy. “I have to stay with Matt. He probably won’t be able to drive home. And he can’t look after Gage.”

  Mrs. Dean plucked the baby out of Cathy’s arms. “I think I can handle getting him home. You run along now. You’re too young to be dealing with all of this.”

  Cathy was surprised. “Well, if you say so.”

  “I do,” said Mrs. Dean. “Off with you.”

  Cathy gave her the keys to the car. Then she turned back to Eli and Isabella. “Would you guys mind hanging out with me?”

  “Mind?” said Eli. “You crazy?”

  Isabella took her by the hand. “Come on, we’ll do whatever you want. We’ll take your mind off of it if you don’t want to talk about it. We’ll listen if you want to tell us everything. We’ll help you find angry music to fit your mood.”

  Cathy couldn’t help but smile at Isabella.

  “Our parents are out of town,” said Eli. “We’ll have the place to ourselves.”

  * * *

  Eli lay on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. His blue eyes matched the blue of his parents’ sofa. “You ever think about death?”

  “Well, yeah.” Cathy was across the room from him, on a blue easy chair. It was overstuffed and comfortable. “I mean, I guess I do. Or whatever.”

  “I don’t,” said Eli. “Not usually, anyway.”

  Cathy hugged her knees to her chest.

  “But then stuff happens, like this funeral and I’m forced to face it. You know?”

  She bit her lip. “People die. It sucks, but it happens.”

  He rolled over on his side, facing her. “Right. Everybody dies. I’m going to die. You’re going to die. My parents are. Isabella. Everyone.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “No, really. It’s like guaranteed or whatever.”

  She wasn’t sure what to say.

  “Do you believe in Heaven?” said Eli. “The pastor at the funeral was going on and on about how we should all get saved, or else we’d go to hell. Do you believe that stuff?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Do you?”

  “Heaven, I could believe in. Maybe not with the angels and the choirs and the big, fluffy clouds. But a place where you go and you’re happy all the time or something? Yeah, I guess I could believe in that. I just can’t believe in hell, though. Like, why would a god who loves everyone make a place that’s all just torment or something?”

  Cathy let out a bitter laugh. “You know, I’m not sure if God actually loves us. I think maybe he makes us suffer for his own amusement.”

  He sat up. “Seriously?”

  “When I think about Heaven, I think about being free. And I think that if I was trapped in some place where people were happy all the time, it would drive me crazy. If all they did was smile and be nice to each other and walk by pearly gates and things, I’d start throwing tantrums. I’d tell whoever was in charge that I wanted to be set out, back to earth. And then… I’d like to be the wind. I’d go wherever I wanted. Blow through things, blow around things. Have no shape. Just fly, free and bodiless, over the entire world. That’s my idea of Heaven.”

  “Whoa.” Eli was quiet, gazing at her with something like adoration.

  She hid her face, embarrassed.

  “That’s really beautiful,” he said. “That’s how I think of you, too. You’re too wild to be contained, Cathy. Like the wind.”

  “Whatever. I was only saying stuff.”

  “I’m glad you did.” He crooked his finger at her. “Come here for a second.”

  She chewed on her lip. Hesitated. But then she went across the room to him.

  He pulled her down on the couch. He kissed her.

  She closed her eyes. She bet the wind never felt guilty, even if it ripped the limbs of trees or the siding off of houses. If she was the wind, kissing Eli wouldn’t make her feel this way.

  * * *

  Cathy watched as Matt staggered into the kitchen. He’d been drunk for weeks now. It seemed like he was always drunk. He never left the house except for to get more alcohol, and he wasn’t in a good mood most of the time.

  “Where’s Gage?” Matt asked her. She caught a whiff of his rank breath.

  “You don’t need to see the baby right now, Matt,” said Cathy.

  Matt opened the refrigerator door. He took out a beer.

  “Hey, maybe you should lay off for a little bit, huh?” she said. “I could make you some coffee?”

  “You want one?” Matt held out the can to her. “You can have a beer if you want, Cathy.”

  “That’s okay.” She chewed on her lip. “Um, Matt, I know that you’re upset about what happened to Fran, but it can’t be good for you to—”

  “Where’s Gage? I can’t find that boy.” He turned to Cathy. “You’re hiding him from me, aren’t you?”

  “No,” said Cathy.

  Matt’s expression hardened. He glared at her, but his eyes didn’t focus properly. “You’re poisoning him against me. Half the time when I pick him up, he starts crying, like he hates me. And he’s all I got left of Fran.”

  “He’s a baby. He cries sometimes.”

  “Why are you doing that, Cathy? Why you making him hate me?”

  “I’m not,” she said.

  Matt pulled a steak knife out of the dish drainer by the sink. He brandished it. “How would you like it if I stuffed this blade down your throat?”

  Cathy left the room. Her brother was starting to get scary. She stopped in the den and picked up Gage, who was in his playpen. She’d take the baby upstairs and lock both of them inside her bedroom.

  But Matt was waiting for her in the hallway. He pulled Gage out of Cathy’s arms.

  Gage started to scream.

  “Stop that,” said Matt. “Stop screaming at me. I’m all you got now. You better learn to smile when you see me.”

  “You scared him,” said Cathy. “He can’t help it.”

  “You going to cry?” said Matt. “I’ll give you something to cry about, Gage.” He started up the stairs, still holding the little boy.

  “Stop!” yelled Cathy. “What are you doing?”

  Matt halted at the top of the steps, dangling Gage over the railing of the balcony. “See, little guy, this is something cry about.”

  “Matt, stop it!” Cathy started up the steps.

  And the door opened. Heath walked in, still dirty and sweaty from the fields.

  Matt was startled, and he lost his grip on the little boy. Gage went into a free fall.

  Cathy shrieked.

  Heath moved forward, quick as a cat. He snatched the boy out of the air.

  Gage gave a great heaving sigh, hiccupped, and smiled at Heath.

  “You!” roared Matt. “It’s your fault I dropped him. I told you that I didn’t want you in the house.”

  “If he hadn’t been here, Gage would be dead.” Cathy ran over to where Heath held Gage, checking the baby to make su
re he was okay. In a lower voice, to Heath, “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you,” Heath whispered back.

  “I’m going to kill you all,” Matt said, leaning over the railing. “All of you. I’ll kill you myself.”

  Heath inclined his head toward the door. “Come on, let’s get out of here. He’s drunk, and he doesn’t know what’s going on.”

  “We have to take Gage.”

  “Of course,” said Heath.

  * * *

  The truck bumped its way over the dirt road that wound through the fields. Alice in Chains was playing over the speakers. Cathy turned it up, resting her head against the window. Gage was in her lap. He seemed to like the music. She watched the scenery through the window. The farm looked the same as it always did. As it always would. Now, more than ever, she just wanted to get away.

  Heath turned down the music.

  “Hey,” she said. “I like that song.”

  “I didn’t bring you out here with me so that we could listen to music.”

  “Why not? That’s what we usually do,” she said. That and have sex. She was glad he wasn’t living in the barn anymore, because otherwise, she guessed they’d be doing it there. The tenant house was better.

  “I haven’t seen you in days, Cathy.”

  “I’ve been busy,” she said. “Everything’s crazy. Matt’s losing his mind now that Fran’s gone.”

  Heath smirked. “Yeah, I could see that.”

  “Heath!” She furrowed her brow. “He’s really hurting.”

  “Good.”

  “You can’t mean that.”

  “Why wouldn’t I mean that?” Heath tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “He deserves it.”

  “He’s my brother.”

  Heath didn’t say anything.

  She sighed. “You could pretend not to hate him, you know. For me.”

  “Does he pretend not to hate me?”

  She reached over to turn the music back up. This was turning into a conversation she didn’t want to have. It reminded her of the way Heath had reacted to her father’s death. Sometimes, she wondered how he could be so hard and unfeeling. He didn’t care about anyone except her.