Red Hatchet Falls

by Susan Clayton-Goldner

  Thursday evening, about a half-hour after Radhauser finished reading Lizzie's favorite bedtime story, The Velveteen Rabbit, for the hundredth time, the doorbell rang. It was after nine p.m. and the sun had slipped behind the mountains. A waxing crescent moon, barely more than a sliver, hung in the ever-darkening sky. The outside motion lights had come on, and as he walked by the living room window, he spotted the black Lincoln Town Car in their driveway.

  A uniformed chauffeur, complete with cap, stood at the ready beside the passenger door. It was an older car, the one with the raised tire-shape on the trunk, but buffed to a high shine, its whitewalls gleaming.

  The doorbell rang again.

  When Radhauser opened the door, a dark-haired, slender woman, about forty-five, stood under the porch lights. She wore an off-white knit skirt with a matching jacket, a pale blue blouse, and high heels. She carried a pair of white kid gloves. Her makeup was perfectly applied and she looked as if she'd just left the beauty salon. Her hair fell just above her shoulders, framing an elegant, if somewhat pinched, face. She looked like a New Yorker in the 1970s headed for the Metropolitan Opera House. Or a character from an old Audrey Hepburn movie.

  “Are you lost?” Radhauser asked.

  Her gaze swept over his western shirt and belt buckle, the denim jeans, and finally his cowboy boots. “I don’t believe so. I’m Julia Drake, Cooper’s mother.” Her eyes, like her son’s, were spring green and heavily lashed. Unlike so many women of her generation, she hadn’t encrusted them with mascara. She held out her right hand where she wore what looked like a diamond the size of a plump blackberry.

  Radhauser took her hand and introduced himself. “Please come inside.” He led her into the living room where she took a seat in the rocking chair in front of the fireplace. She sat ramrod straight, knees clamped and both feet on the floor, shoes touching.

  A moment later, Gracie, who’d just put Jonathan to bed, joined them.

  Radhauser introduced Mrs. Drake.

  “May I offer you something to drink?” Gracie asked. “An iced tea or lemonade? A glass of wine?”

  “No, thank you, dear. And please, call me Julia. I won’t be staying long. I’ve come to take my son home where he belongs. I thought he would have come to his senses by now, but it looks like I need to intervene.”

  Radhauser sat on the sofa. “I’m under the impression Cooper wants to stay here until he can afford a place of his own.”

  Gracie took a seat beside him and directly across the coffee table from Cooper’s mother.

  Julia leaned forward ever so slightly. “I’ve been worried sick. He’s such an impetuous boy, and he’s throwing away his life. He has no idea what he wants. And certainly not what’s best for him.”

  “He’s legally an adult.” Radhauser tucked a pillow behind the small of his aching back. “Entitled to make his own decisions about where he’s living.”

  “I know you mean well, Detective Radhauser, but you don’t understand. How could you?” She lifted her hands, palms up. “Cooper isn’t like other young men. He’s a prodigy—a gifted concert pianist who is wasting precious time here.”

  “We’ve heard him play,” Gracie said. “And you’re right. He’s very good.”

  She laughed. “Good doesn’t begin to describe his talent, my dear. But even great talent needs nurturing. Cooper must keep up his practice sessions. At home, I see to it he follows a strict schedule.”

  Gracie smiled, but Radhauser could tell by the way her back had stiffened that she didn’t like Julia Drake. “I told him he’s welcome to use our piano any time he wants. The truth is, I love to hear him play. Even the baby, who’s cutting teeth, stops fussing as soon as Cooper strikes the first piano key.”

  When Julia’s gaze darted to the old upright piano in the corner, her upper lip curled slightly. “He needs to practice on an instrument befitting his talent. You don’t understand. Cooper is an extraordinary pianist. You can’t let him ruin his life. Not to mention what he’s doing to his hands. It would only take a broken finger or a sprained wrist and his entire career, his life’s work, could be ruined.”

  She lifted her chin, nose in the air. "I never thought my son would be working as a stable boy." She made the last two words seem tarnished. They leaped from her mouth as if she couldn't wait to expel them. "It would be criminal to allow him to give up his dream."

  A crushing, stomach-churning silence filled the room.

  Julia’s right leg twitched and her expression clearly said she’d rather be somewhere else. But it was easy to see this was a matter as urgent to her as life and death.

  Gracie cleared her throat. “Is it Cooper’s dream, or your dream for him?” Her voice was soft, kind. “We all have many dreams for our children. But once they grow up, we have to let them go. What they do with their lives becomes their own decision.”

  Julia scooted the rocking chair closer to Gracie, took both of her hands across the coffee table, and stared directly into her eyes. “I know you mean well. But unless you’ve given birth to something this extraordinary, you couldn’t possibly understand.”

  Gracie slipped her hands out of Julia’s grasp. “I suspect most parents believe their children are extraordinary.”

  "Cooper isn't like other children. He doesn't belong to himself. He belongs to the world. A gift like his doesn't come often. I know I'm his mother and this might seem like bragging, but he's another Franz Liszt. Cooper could play Beethoven before he could write his own name. His father was also a gifted pianist." She paused and her gaze darted over to Radhauser as if checking to see if what she'd said had moved him over to her side.

  For a moment, all three of them were quiet.

  Then, Julia resumed her speech, as if she’d memorized it. “Reviewers all over the country praised his passion. Please,” she begged. “Tell him you no longer need his help. He’ll listen to you. I know he will. And once he’s home, he’ll come to his senses.”

  Gracie remained silent.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Drake,” Radhauser said. “But I don’t think this is any of our business. As far as I can tell, Cooper is happy and wants to stay here. We like having him. He does a great job with the barn and the yard work. He’s even giving our daughter piano lessons. He more than earns his keep. And I have no intention of asking him to leave.”

  "Giving piano lessons to kids is for the ones who don't have what it takes to make it on a concert stage." She paused and her eyes filled with tears. "But not someone of my Cooper's caliber." Julia put her fingertips against her temples as if a throbbing headache had appeared there. "Why won't you help me?"

  Radhauser was keenly aware of the pulse leaping in his neck. He tried to keep himself calm, but he'd had about enough of this arrogant and entitled woman. It was time she left. He stood. "This is an issue between you and Cooper. We don't want any part in it. I think you should leave now."

  "I'm not going anywhere without my son. So, where is he?" She stood and headed out of the living room toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. "Cooper," she called out. "It’s Mother."

  Radhauser followed and grabbed her arm before she could wake the children. “He’s not staying in the house. He’s using the office in our barn.”

  The color bled from her cheeks. She jerked away from Radhauser's grasp, the look on her face capable of wilting a bowl of spinach. "Good God. He didn't mention he was sleeping in the hayloft with the animals like some vagrant."

  “It was good enough for Jesus.” Gracie’s attempt at humor fell flat in the face of Julia’s contempt.

  “Listen to me, and listen good,” Julia demanded, the color returning to her cheeks. “Don’t waste your time trying to convince me your barn is a decent place for my son to live. I never wanted him to come here. And I most certainly won’t allow him to live in some manure-filled stable with a bunch of filthy and germ-laden animals.” Her words were sharp, like bullets carefully aimed.

  "It has a very comfortable bed and its own bathroom and shower," G
racie said, still trying to smooth things over. “I’ve slept there many times when a mare was about to foal.”

  Radhauser was very close to losing his patience. And it wasn’t hard to understand why Cooper wanted to move away as soon as possible. “I know he had a Little League coaches’ meeting this evening and I’m not sure if he’s home yet. But I’ll go check for you.”

  "Don't bother. I'm sure my chauffeur can find the barn. Those things are too ugly to miss. And we passed it when we drove in, didn't we?"

  “I prefer you have your discussion with Cooper outside our ugly barn,” Radhauser said. “Horses are sensitive creatures and they spook easily around strangers, especially if they sense fear or anger.”

  Julia raised her chin, threw her head back and walked out the front door without another word.

  She waited in the back of the Lincoln while Radhauser opened the big barn doors and hurried down the center aisle to the office. Ameer whinnied, expecting an evening handful of sweet feed. “Later, boy.”

  Radhauser scratched under the stallion’s chin, then stepped up to the closed office door and tapped. “Cooper? Sorry to disturb you, but I need to speak with you for a moment.”

  The door opened. Cooper wore his jeans and a white T-shirt, but his feet were bare, his hair damp as if he’d just showered. “What’s up?”

  “Your mother is here. Insisting you go home with her.”

  He clenched his eyes shut and he seemed to bite back against something acidic, then opened them an instant later. “Tell her I have no intention of leaving here.”

  “I’m sorry, son, but I don’t want to get in the middle of this. I told her we liked having you here and that you were welcome to stay as long as you like. But she’s pretty adamant that you don’t belong with us. She’s worried about your hands.”

  Cooper let out a long sigh. “That would be Mother, all right. I’m really sorry she bothered you. I’ll take care of it.” He pulled a sweatshirt over his T-shirt and put on his boots without any socks.

  “She’s waiting in her car.”

  “Thanks, Wind. And, again, I’m sorry she interrupted your evening.”

  “Let me know what you decide. And close up the barn when you’re finished.”

  "While psychopaths like my mother can be very persuasive, I'm not leaving until I have a place of my own." He paused and smiled. "That is unless I'm not doing my part and you decide to throw me out. I'm no longer that helpless child she could manipulate and control. I'm tired of doing something I hate to keep her living the lifestyle she thinks she deserves."

  From what he’d seen in the sweet-natured young man so far, he wasn’t sure Cooper was any match for the woman waiting in the back of her Lincoln. A part of Radhauser wanted to stick around and help Cooper out, but this wasn’t his battle. Reluctantly, he left the young man standing in the barn, gave Ameer the promised sweet feed, then turned and headed up the drive.

  But before he’d gone far, Julia’s angry voice echoed in the darkness. “You’re ruining your life. And mine.” Something that sounded like a slap split the cool air around him. Radhauser froze. Should he head back down the driveway? Did Cooper need help? Or was he the one who’d slapped his mother? Either way, Radhauser decided to mind his own business.

  When he arrived back at the house, Gracie was still in the entryway. She covered her mouth and began to laugh. It came out in little bubbles, like water starting to boil. "I'm sure my chauffeur can find the barn. His sense of direction is quite astute," she said in a haughty voice he'd never heard her use before. She raised her hand to her brow and pretended to cast off the perspiration. "My precious son sleeping in a stable filled with germ-laden animals. Appalling, I tell you. Simply appalling."

  Her giggles were contagious, and he laughed, too. “I’m sure he can find the barn, dahling. It’s quite hard to miss.”

  As quickly as it started, Gracie’s laughter stopped. “Do you think Cooper’s okay?”

  “He’s a big boy,” Radhauser said. “Standing up to his mother is one of the tests he’ll have to face before he becomes a real man.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. “Do you like having Cooper around? Or is it too much of a reminder of everything you lost with Lucas?”

  Radhauser inhaled a deep breath, the way people do when their thoughts returned to the past. “I’ll never be completely free of what happened to Laura and Lucas. But hanging out with Cooper, the easy way we can talk, makes me focus on what I want with Lizzie and Jonathan when they’re adults.” He took Gracie’s hand and squeezed. “And that’s a very good thing.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The following morning, before dawn, Radhauser jogged down the gravel driveway to his barn. The big doors were open. He looked around but didn't see Cooper's car. Maybe he'd parked it behind the barn and out of sight. Or had he gone back to his mother's house last night and forgotten to close the barn doors? Radhauser stepped inside. As always, he was greeted with the smells of leather, alfalfa, cedar shavings, and molasses. Smells he'd come to love.

  Cooper sat on a bale of hay in the center aisle near the tack room, polishing the silver on Mercedes' bridle and chest plate. He wore a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. His work boots were untied and his hair ruffled. He appeared haggard, as if he hadn't slept. He didn't look up when Radhauser entered.

  The detective let out a sigh as he moved closer, relieved it appeared Cooper had stood his ground with his mother and followed his vision for his life.

  When Cooper finally lifted his head, his left cheek had the beginnings of a bruise and a nasty-looking cut under his eye that reminded Radhauser of the one on Junior Parsons’ face.

  “What happened to your cheek?”

  Cooper ignored the question and asked one of his own. “What are you doing up and about so early?”

  “I often head out early, but that doesn’t explain why you’re awake and working already. Or what happened to your face.”

  “I couldn’t sleep and figured I’d get some tack cleaning done before Gracie lets the horses out and I can start on the barn.”

  Radhauser said a silent prayer the two-inch gouge on Cooper’s face hadn’t been a result of his work in the barn. He asked the question again. “Are you planning to tell me what happened?”

  “Just clumsy, I guess. Got up to go to the bathroom and ran smack into the open door.” His gaze darted toward Ameer’s stall and stayed there.

  Radhauser studied him for a moment—the lie hanging in the air between them. He thought about the sound of a slap he'd heard last night, the big diamond solitaire on Julia Drake's right hand. Had one of the prongs caught Cooper's cheek and ripped it open? "That's not even a good story. And it's not what happened, is it?"

  For a long moment, a valley of silence separated them. The air was so heavy, it was difficult to suck in another breath.

  Finally, Cooper met Radhauser’s gaze.

  In Cooper’s green eyes, Radhauser saw a well of emotions clamoring to come out. “My mother, who believes herself to be a grand lady and somehow above the rest of us, has always been a believer in behind-closed-doors corporal punishment. It was the cornerstone of her parenting style.”

  “What about your father? Was he aware? Did he intervene on your behalf?”

  Cooper laughed, a bitter sound. “He wasn’t around much. What am I saying? He was never around. I think I may have met my father once, after a concert I gave at Carnegie Hall. He was pretty old by that time, and he didn’t even tell me his name. I found out earlier this year he set up a trust fund for me before he died. But he was never a part of my life.”

  The sadness in Cooper’s voice was thick and palpable. “I think he must have been married to someone else.” He grimaced and touched his throat as if his bitterness had caused it to sting. “The only thing she ever told me about him was that he was brilliant and world-renown.”

  “I’m sorry,” Radhauser said. “You deserved better. I heard the sound of a slap last night as I was headed back u
p my driveway. I admit I almost hoped you were the one who’d delivered it.”

  Cooper laughed, more of a quick bark, that rapidly turned solemn. “She made that good of an impression on you, did she? Believe me, I considered it, held myself back for years, but…” He lowered his gaze.

  Radhauser dropped a hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “Not being able to slap your mother is nothing to be ashamed of, son. Now, let’s take a closer look at that cut.” He stepped into the bathroom.

  Cooper followed.

  Radhauser ran water on a washcloth and cleaned the wound, then took out the first-aid kit he kept in there, squeezed out a line of Neosporin and used some butterfly bandages to close the wound. “I don’t think it’s deep enough for stitches, but that should keep the scarring to a minimum. We don’t want you looking like a sword-fighting pirate.”

  “Thanks.”

  Radhauser put his hand on Cooper’s shoulder again and squeezed. “You’re still here and that counts for something. I have to go now, but we can talk more tonight if you want or need to.”

  * * *

  It had been a quiet Friday at the police station, mostly routine business and catching up on paperwork. By five p.m., Radhauser had completed all the reports and interviews on the Marsha Parsons case, reviewed everything for accuracy, then turned them over to the district attorney. He stored related evidence in the designated police locker.

  Throughout the day, his thoughts had often turned to Cooper and what transpired with his mother last night. Radhauser didn’t want to be pushy or overstep his bounds, but he also understood how much damage an abusive relationship with a mother could inflict. Cooper had been reared without knowing his father. How willing would he be to take advice from a man he’d known for only a few months? Was there a way Radhauser could help Cooper take charge of his life? Or should he mind his own business?

  Later that night, after the kids were bathed, had their stories read to them, and were tucked in for the night, Radhauser had his customary drink with Cooper on the front porch—a solarium with a curved glass roof. Four sliding glass doors across the front were screened for ventilation in the summer. The two of them sat on rocking chairs, the room lit only by a candle inside a lantern on the small table between them.