As the Richardson men drove to Caddo Lake, Laurie joined Sam and Marek in the Snyders’ kitchen. Renee sat in the living room, reading to Paul and Ann. Lynne and Jane were upstairs asleep and while Laurie could hear Renee’s gentle cadence, he didn’t worry she would wake Lynne or her daughter. Laurie’s main concern was when Eric might return; Lynne had taken the morning’s news hard, and while Renee had soothed some of Lynne’s upset, Laurie felt the expectant mother was on the verge of collapse. He gazed at the men seated near him, their faces showing the same worry. Sam’s blue eyes were pale while Marek’s brown irises were as dark as Laurie had ever noticed.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Sam said softly as Laurie took a seat. “My God, I feel like we’ve all been through the wringer.”
Marek placed his clasped hands on the table. “I wonder if Lynne should see her doctor this week.”
“I asked her about it yesterday, said she’d think about it.” Laurie sighed, then shook his head. “She woke this morning feeling pretty down. She’s trying to keep a brave face, but….”
“It’s hard, but he should be home any time.” Sam inhaled, then let it out slowly. “Laurie, I don’t know how much she’s told you….”
Both men glanced at Marek, who nodded. “We’ll be here for whatever they need.”
“Well, someone’s gonna have to be with him twenty-four seven. Unless he’s smart enough to just go to sleep.” Sam cracked his knuckles. “He needs lots of sleep, as much as he can get. Not sure how Jane’s schedule will fit into that, but….”
“Laurie, you bring Jane to St. Matthew’s. Mrs. Kenny and I will look after her.”
Sam stood, then went to the kitchen doorway, closing that door. He returned to his seat. “Renee can watch our kids, it’s mostly a matter of, well….”
“What?” Laurie asked.
Sam fidgeted, then gave Marek a distinct look. Then Sam faced Laurie. “Bedding will need to be changed and often. Lynne has plenty of sheets, so you shouldn’t have to worry about that. He doesn’t eat much right off the bat, then he’ll just want soup, vegetable soup. I’ll take care of the cooking, but there needs to be someone here besides Lynne. She’s in no shape to….”
As the door opened, Sam stopped speaking. Lynne joined them, then she motioned for both Sam and Laurie to stay seated. She poured herself some water, then sat next to Laurie. “Couldn’t sleep,” she said. “Renee’s outside with the kids.”
“Jane too?” Marek asked, clasping Lynne’s hands in his own.
“No, she’s still napping.” Lynne tried to smile, but she shivered. “I might have slept a little, I think I had a bad dream.” Then she sighed. “So, what’s being discussed in here?”
“Sam was just telling us some particulars for when Eric gets home.” Laurie patted Lynne’s shoulder. “Marek’s offered to keep an eye on Jane, Sam’s on cooking detail, and I’ll be your personal assistant.” He smiled, but it was forced. “Between all of us, we’ll manage.”
Lynne nodded, but a few tears fell. “I’m sure everything’ll be….” She shook her head. “I know this sounds silly, but with all that’s happened, I just want him to land, you know?” She gazed at Marek, then at Laurie. Finally she looked at Sam. “It’s not gonna be easy, and to tell you the truth, I’m about ready to say that Jane and I will spend Thanksgiving here. If he doesn’t get home by tomorrow, he’s not gonna be in any shape to….”
“We’ll work around it, don’t worry.” Sam reached across the table, placing his hands atop Lynne and Marek’s. “Vivian won’t ask questions, neither will Frannie. All that matters is….”
Squeals from outside made the four adults look to the kitchen door. Laurie stood first, Sam right behind him. When Laurie opened the door, he saw Ann running away, Paul after her, both children giggling. Then Laurie heard a mother’s reprimand, for the kids to get back to the patio immediately.
Laurie closed the door, then turned to find Lynne weeping in Marek’s arms. Sam shook his head, then pulled Laurie aside. “He usually lands in the scrub, you’ll hear a big screech, you can’t miss it.”
“Are you sure?” Laurie asked.
Sam nodded. “Listen, I better take them home. Just call any time, day or night.”
“I’ll do that.” Laurie sighed. “I don’t know how much more she can take.”
“You’d be surprised. But hopefully he’ll come squawking in another day or two.” Sam spoke softly, then cleared his throat, walking back to the table. “Lynne, we’re gonna go. I told Laurie to just call us, okay?”
“Thanks Sam.” Lynne gazed up, her face streaked with tears. “Are you gonna watch the funeral tomorrow?”
“Uh, yeah, we were.”
“Well, so are we. If you wanna come over, I mean….”
Sam knelt next to Lynne. “We might. I’ll call in the morning, see how you all are. If the kids don’t mind, yeah.” Then Sam glanced at Marek. “What about you, Pastor?”
“I’ll be at St. Matthew’s.”
“Oh yeah, um, well….”
“But you could join us for dinner, right?” Lynne’s tone was teary.
“Of course. That would be a good way to end the day.”
“I agree.” Laurie appreciated the inclusive nature. If he was in New York, he wasn’t sure where he would be. “Any idea what time the service starts?”
“I’m sure it’ll be televised all morning,” Lynne said. Then she looked at Sam. “Just come over when you’re up to it. We’ll be here.” Lynne glanced at Laurie, who nodded at her.
“Sounds fine.” Sam went to his feet, then squeezed Lynne’s shoulder. “Okay, gonna round up the troops.”
“Need any help?” Laurie asked.
“Uh, sure.”
Sam gave Laurie a quizzical gaze, then led the men from the kitchen. Laurie closed the kitchen door behind him, then stopped Sam in the living room. “I wasn’t sure how much Marek wanted to know. I just….”
Sam nodded. “He wasn’t here when Eric left, although Eric invited him.” Sam stared at the closed kitchen door. “We’ll just play it by ear.”
“I feel like everything is a play it by ear situation.”
“These days it is.” Sam looked at the dark TV screen. “Not sure I wanna turn it on tonight, no idea what’s gonna happen next.”
“Well, between us, I’m glad he’s dead.” Laurie shook his head. It had been unbelievable to hear, once they were out of church, and to think it had been shown live made Laurie shudder. “As soon as I know anything, I’ll call you.”
“Thanks.” Sam gripped Laurie’s hand, then shook it firmly.
“I wish I could say my pleasure, but….”
Sam smiled. “You will, one of these days.” Sam stepped toward the French doors, then motioned to his wife. Laurie watched as Renee approached the house, then Sam swung wide the door with the new pane. Laurie never failed to notice it and he hoped Sam was right. Lynne needed this to end and only God knew how Eric was faring.
As the Aherns drove away from Lynne’s front gate, Luke pointed to where he thought the boys had been stalking game. While Walt knew this side of the lake well, darkness was falling. Luke had wondered aloud if the hawk had landed in the lake and Walt was starting to assume that had to be the case. Yet, he didn’t want to leave the bird’s carcass, or what might remain of it, out in the open for another night. A hawk deserved more than that, along with a memory stirred within Walt’s subconscious. Rare were the times he thought of that day, but now it seemed all around him, what with eerie shadows being cast as the sun’s last rays reflected upon the water.
“It’s gotta be here,” Luke mumbled, shaking his head. Then he met his father’s eyes. “Unless you think something took it away.”
“That’s probably what happened.” Walt shrugged, but only for effect. Then he squinted. “Show me again where you boys were standing.”
Luke motioned toward a small grove of trees. “At first he tried from there, but he was too far away. Then he came here, I think it
was here.” Luke looked at their surroundings. “Yeah, this was where he shot from. It musta fallen into the lake.”
“But you said you never heard a splash.” Walt’s boots were wet, for the ground was spongy around the tree itself. He walked toward it, then stared up, like he could see the hawk in the uppermost branches. Luke had said it was a large bird, but even a small creature would have made a plopping sound.
Then Walt gazed to the right where another clump of cypress trees stood. “It might’ve flown over there once it was hit.” If Walt was right, Hiram’s gun would have shot a hole clean through the bird, but if he had only grazed it, maybe it had managed to get away, or at least not fallen into the water. Walt didn’t want his son to see the remains, if there were any. “You stay right here.”
“Yes sir.” Luke seemed to understand.
Walt nodded, then walked toward the trees, the shovel slung over his left shoulder. If he found anything, he’d bury it with a few swift motions. The ground was soft and it wouldn’t take more than a minute to dig the hole.
Luke watched, but by the time his father reached the trees, it was nearly dark. He wished they had a flashlight, but his dad probably knew how to get back to the truck without getting lost. Luke just wanted to go home. He never wanted to see a gun, much less fire it. And as for Hiram…. On the way to the lake, Walt had sternly lectured Luke that playing with Hiram at recess was one thing, but Luke was expressly forbidden to associate with Hiram outside of school hours. Luke appreciated that decree and if Hiram didn’t like it, all Luke had to do was….
“Oh for the love of God!”
Luke’s heart beat hard, hearing his father speak that way. “Daddy, Daddy? What is it?”
“C’mere son, quick!”
Luke ran toward the trees, just enough light left to make them out. He saw his father kneeling on the ground next to what looked like a stump. “Daddy, did you find it?”
A sickly moan rose from where Walt still knelt. “Luke, you carry the shovel, you hear?”
“Uh-huh. Daddy, what is it?”
Walt stood, hoisting something large in his arms. Luke grabbed the shovel, then followed his father. “Daddy, what is that?”
The creature moaned again, making Luke shiver, then he stopped. “Daddy, what’d you find?”
“It’s a man,” Walt said sternly. “Now c’mon or it’ll be too dark to get back to the truck.”
Luke trembled, then ran to catch up to his father, who was taking long strides. Soon they had reached the truck. “Open the tailgate,” Walt said quietly.
The tailgate often was stuck, so Luke leaned the shovel against the side of the truck. With two hands he did as he was told, then watched as his father carefully placed the man in the back. Walt didn’t bother to close the tailgate, but he did put the shovel in the back, away from where he had laid the man. Then Walt approached his son, kneeling in front of him. “Luke, I’m only gonna ask you once, and I want you to tell me the truth. Did Hiram shoot a hawk or a….”
“It was a hawk, I swear Daddy!” Now Luke started to cry. “It was just us out there, nobody else. We made sure ’cause we didn’t wanna get caught skipping school.”
Walt nodded, then brushed Luke’s hair from his eyes. “I believe you. Luke, I don’t want you talking about this to no one. If Hiram asks, just tell him I buried the hawk. I found it, then buried it, you understand?”
Luke nodded. “Yes sir. You found the hawk and buried it in the trees off to the right.”
“Okay. Now get in the truck. I’m gonna hafta go slow, and when we get home, you go in and tell your mother to come out. Keep your sisters in the house and don’t say anything to them, you hear me?”
“Yes Daddy, uh-huh.”
Walt was in the cab before Luke was, and as Luke got in, shutting the door, Walt pulled away from the dirt road. It took them several minutes to get home. Once Walt turned into the drive, he stopped, then motioned toward Luke’s door. “Go get your mother.”
Luke hopped out, running to the house, where light blazed from the front window. Reaching the porch, Luke slowed considerably, but he panted as he opened the door. His mother and sisters were seated on the sofa and Tilda met Luke where he stood. “Well, you find it?” she said.
He ignored her, finding his mother’s gaze. “Mama, Daddy wants you.”
Dora raised one eyebrow. “He say why?”
“He just needs to….” Luke almost said show you something. Instead he cleared his throat, giving Tilda a sharp glance. “He just needs to talk to you.”
Dora stood, handing Gail to Tilda. “All right.” She ruffled Luke’s hair, but Luke didn’t turn around to watch her leave. He stepped to the sofa, sat down, then looked at Tilda. “Sit,” he said with a definite air of authority.
“You don’t tell me what to do,” she said.
“Just sit, unless you wanna stand and hold Gail.”
Tilda scowled, then joined her brother on the sofa. Esther scooted next to Luke and he put his arm around her, wishing he could see that man in the back of his father’s truck.
Ten minutes later Dora entered the house. Luke turned to see her, but what he noticed first was the blood staining his mother’s jacket.
“What happened?” Tilda asked. “Oh Mama, are you okay?”
Luke stared at his mother, her face ashen. Then Walt stepped inside, motioning for Luke, who got off the sofa. “Tilda, Luke and I found a wounded man on our way back. He’s hurt bad and I don’t know if he’s gonna make it. He’ll sleep in the shed for tonight and I’ll be out with him. Now Tilda….” Walt approached the children, then knelt in front of his daughter. “You need to keep quiet about this. You know Luke and Hiram were out shooting on Friday, and Luke swears that all he saw was Hiram aiming at birds. The boys split up after while, who knows what Hiram did afterwards. In the meantime, I don’t want you saying nothing to nobody about this, you understand me?”
Tilda could be sassy to Luke, but she nodded solemnly at their father, her eyes stark in her face. “I won’t say anything Daddy, I promise.”
Walt nodded, then gently caressed her face. “That’s a good girl.” Walt stood, then sighed. “Tilda, you keep an eye on your sisters. Luke, you come with me.”
“Yes Daddy.” Luke followed his father, but Walt paused at the table where Dora sat, her head in her hands. He whispered something to her and she nodded, sighing as she did so. Then Walt headed to the door and Luke was right behind him. Walt went around the left corner of the house, not stopping until he reached the large shed in the back. Tools were stored there, wood for the upcoming winter too. And sometimes Walt slept out here when Luke’s parents were fighting.
Walt opened the door, then pulled on a string hanging from the ceiling. A dim bulb flickered, putting off just enough light that Luke could see a figure in the corner, lying where sometimes his father slept. The man was covered by blankets, looked to be shivering. Walt motioned for Luke to stay where he was and Luke nodded. The man moaned in pain and while Luke was curious, he wasn’t sure he wanted to get too close.
Luke observed how his father checked the man’s pulse, then Walt sighed. “Not sure you’re gonna make it, but if you do, you’re a stronger man than me.” Walt turned Luke’s way. “Son, bring me some water.”
A bucket sat on a table along the wall and Luke dipped a cup into it, then brought it to his dad. The man was hard to see, for Walt’s shadow fell over the bed. Luke could make out light colored hair, but the man smelled like he’d been in the wild for a long time. “Daddy, is he a….”
“A what?” Walt said, taking the cup from Luke’s slightly quivering hands.
“Is he a sasquatch or something?”
“No Luke, just an injured man.” Walt set the cup to the man’s lips. “Here, drink this if you can.”
Luke couldn’t tell if the man drank any of the water. All he noted was how gentle was his father’s voice and how poorly the man sounded, still moaning. “Daddy, what’re we gonna do with him?”
> “I don’t know yet. Luke, run and get me some old towels. And the alcohol from the bathroom. If you can’t find it, ask your mother.”
“Okay.” Luke walked away, trying to snatch a glimpse of the man. As he reached the door, he bumped into the wall, then turned around, seeing a figure approach. It was his mother, a finger to her lips, the items Walt had requested in her hands.
“Oh Mama, Daddy was just asking me to get these.” Luke wore a brief smile, but quickly it turned to a frown as the man let out a sickly cry, which sounded more like a squawk. Luke turned back, seeing his father still at the man’s side. Then his mother handed him the towels.
“Give those to Walt,” she murmured. “Go on now, he needs them.”
Luke returned to where his father and the man were, then heard what sounded like retching noises from just outside the door of the shed. His mother was sick, but Luke felt a little ill too, from the scent of the man and from the smell of blood.
“Here Daddy.” Luke gripped the towels and bottle, which he assumed was alcohol. “Mama just brought them out.”
Walt turned around. “Where’s your mother?”
“I think she’s sick outside.”
“Jesus Christ. Luke, just wait here. Dora, you okay?” Walt stood, then ran out of the shed. Luke could hear his parents speaking, their voices soothing his mind. Then he gazed at the man, who was moaning in pain.
The light was bad, but Luke’s shadow was smaller than his father’s. Setting the supplies on the ground, Luke stepped closer, making out that indeed the man seemed to have blonde hair, but his body looked strange, like his right arm was missing. Then Luke swallowed back bile; someone had shot this man, blowing away his shoulder. Luke wondered how anyone could survive such an injury, and was the man’s arm still attached? “Hey mister, it’s gonna be okay mister. My name’s Luke and you’re gonna be all right.”
The words were borne of a hopeful but not expectant heart. So much had already been lost that weekend, but Luke didn’t think this man would want to live with the right side of his body so badly deformed. Then Luke wondered about Mrs. Kennedy; her husband had been shot in the head. What if the doctors could have saved him? He probably wouldn’t have been able to be president anymore, but at least he would be alive. “Hey mister, you got a bad shoulder, but don’t die, all right? Not tonight, and not this weekend. Listen, just go to sleep. You just sleep and you’ll feel better tomorrow okay? Mister, you hear me? Just go to sleep and….”
Now Luke only heard his mother’s tears, for the man was silent. Luke wondered if he was still breathing, and with great courage, he reached for the man’s left shoulder. His skin was warm but grimy. To Luke’s surprise, the man’s chest rose, then fell, erratic breaths being taken. Luke remained in that place until his father returned. Walt whispered for Luke to go inside and eat. Luke nodded, then headed for the house. Tilda was waiting for him, holding open the door. Luke looked at her, but didn’t see their mother. “Mama went to bed,” Tilda said softly. “Is he alive?”
“Yeah, for now.” Luke stared at his hands, he needed to wash them. Then he glanced at his feet, a feather caught between his toes. He removed it, then held it up to the light. It was the same color as that hawk, which made Luke shiver. But he didn’t ponder it for long. After Luke washed his hands, he put Gail in her chair, then told Tilda and Esther to sit at the table. Luke said a brief grace, inwardly praying for the man in their shed. Then he filled four plates, telling his sisters it was suppertime.
Chapter 161
The Hawk: Part Nine Page 4