Deception Creek (15 page)

She willingly moved over, leaned into him, and allowed his hand to let go of hers so he could place his arm over her shoulder. “What do you think happened?” she asked.

“I don't know for sure. A lot of things. Exhaustion being one of them. I think my head just got tired of worrying about everything.” He thought more deeply about it. “Not everything. I still feel sad about Mom.” Something stirred inside him, different from the feelings he'd been having.

“I'm here if you need to talk with someone,” she said.

“I know. But it's not like that anymore. I just feel sad. Like it is too bad it had to happen the way it did. I feel like a person who has experienced his mother's suicide, not like someone attached to it, or responsible for it. It feels almost like she died a different death. One I truly could not have stopped.”

“You couldn't stop this one, Billy. If that's how she decided to go, there is nothing you could have done.” Vicki turned her head to look up and into his face. She had to pull away from him a little to see his reaction, to tell if he truly understood what she had said.

“You're right. Even if I'd stayed home, she would have done it. And I've cried about it. Somehow, it feels over now. I'm just sorry it happened.”

Vicki hugged him awkwardly.

Billy held her afterwards, but noticed an uneasiness in her demeanor.

Vicki asked, “Are we just friends?”

Billy stirred, reviewed his affections, replayed the amount of physical contact they had had lately. How did he feel? “No.” And the second he said it, his heartbeat picked up.

“More than friends then?”

“More,” he said with a tone that belied he didn't quite know how much more.

“I'm sure your feelings concerning me have not been your priority. I didn't mean to come on so strong with the questions. I just wanted to get an idea. I'm not asking for anything definite.”

“Stop,” he said before she began to ramble out of control. “You don't have to explain. I should be explaining. I know I've given you mixed signals. In a way I've taken advantage of you, your kindness. When I needed closeness, you were willing to be there, even if neither of us knew what it might mean, or where it might lead.”

“You didn't take advantage. I wanted to be there for you.” She hesitated. “To be honest, I figured all you needed was a friend. I admit my feelings have been stronger than that — you probably knew — but I've kept them in check the best I know how. That's why I asked. I wasn't searching for a commitment, just the okay to relax a little.”

“I don't want to lead you on. I don't want to be dishonest. I've been through a lot and I don't want to use you for my own personal comfort. But I think I need to think about this for a while. At first—”

“Yes?”

“Well, at first I thought you were just too young.”

“There's only—”

“I know. Your mother thinks it's all right, too.”

“She told me. In a way she's encouraged me.” She touched his cheek. “Not that I needed much encouragement.”

They kissed softly, gently, in a way that meant more than just friends.

S
eeing Jack's face Monday morning shocked Billy at first, made him feel uncomfortable, but he kept silent. Jack continued to be civil, but noticeably lacked the words to go any deeper than that. By Thursday morning though, he and Jack were conversing more as adults, their relative shyness had turned to a mild form of camaraderie due to their close working conditions.

Harry brought doughnuts for the men that morning. Billy and Jack, along with most of the crew, hung around Harry's truck. Billy noticed that Harry didn't have such heavy bags under his eyes that morning. He smiled a lot too. Maybe his life had turned for the better.

“Jack,” Harry said. “The cross will be ready tomorrow morning, I'm told. You ready for it?”

“Any time, boss.”

“You gotta pick one of these wimps to go up with you.
With
harnesses,” Harry said.

Several of the men stepped back and said no, jokingly.

“I can do it. Not that I like it up there, but I can do it,” Hillman said.

Tim Slater jerked his chin towards Jack and asked, “Aren't you just a little afraid up there. I see you walking without a harness and just wonder if you're not scared of dyin'?”

Jack smiled at Tim. “I like it. Always have. Even as a kid. I look at it as being close to God. I feel exuberant when I'm up there. I think that if I start to fall from up there, God doesn't have as far to reach down and save my ass as he would if I fell from down lower.”

“Exuberant?” Tim said.

“Yep. Exuberant.”

“I don't know about God's hand comin' down to grab me, but I believe I'll be wearin' a harness just in case he's lookin' the other way,” Hillman said.

“Let me try,” Billy offered.

Hillman scoffed. “Don't be stupid, kid. It's too dangerous.”

“It's not just the height,” Harry said. “It's the incline; it's the slippery surface, the tight quarters. With two men up there, it becomes more dangerous for both of you. I guess I could hire it out,” he said, “but all the big guns got the guys who are used to heights. They even called people in from out-of-town. Don't know why I got all the ground-huggers.” Harry shook his head at his own musings and to dismiss Billy's suggestion. “It's not a forgiving place up there,” he said.

Billy's face flashed with embarrassment because he'd been shot down so quickly by everyone. Other men he noticed were shaking their heads in agreement with Harry's assessment. Scott grabbed Billy's shoulder and whispered from behind him, “You don't want to risk it up there.”

“Maybe I do,” Billy whispered back.

Harry must have heard the two of them. He looked at Billy. “Well, you're not going to. And Hill, thanks for volunteering. Anyone else change their mind, talk with Jack. It's his life up there, too.

When the crew disassembled and went back to work, Billy stepped up to pace with Jack.

Jack turned to look at him. “I know what you're thinking.”

“Do you?” Billy said.

“If all you want is a father, don't do it. If all you want is an answer, don't do it. Neither is worth risking your life for. Nor risking mine.”

“We'll be wearing harnesses. Besides, what if I just want to be closer to God?” Billy said.

Jack stopped short. He turned to Billy. “Then be closer to God, don't go closer to him.” Jack nodded approval to his own words. “Be there first.” Jack went on then, leaving Billy standing.

“You just don't want to know!” Billy yelled after him. “You don't want the truth! You're afraid of the responsibility!”

Jack stopped, turned around and headed back towards Billy, who took two steps backwards. Jack was on him in seconds pointing into Billy's chest, anger, or hurt, in his face. “What would we do? Huh? What? You called it the other day and I've been thinking about it ever since.” His face became wrinkled and he cocked his head. “You've already grown through childhood where a real father is needed. You're on your own now. You're off to college. And me,” his finger turned toward himself, “I don't know how to be a father. I can't just jump into some role I've never had.”

“One you've never wanted,” Billy said.

Jack dropped his finger-pointing arm. “I can't win with you,” he said.

“Win what?”

“A word battle. I run out. I plan words ahead. When I run out, I just run out. I don't know what I want to win besides a feeling that somewhere along the way I've made a right decision.” Before Billy could speak, Jack turned to walk away again. “You don't even know me,” he said. “How do you know you even want me as a father this far into your life?”

Billy hung his head. “I don't know what I want. You're right. But I think we both know what the truth is.”

“Do we?” Jack walked on.

Billy followed him. “My mom died because she knew the truth,” Billy said to Jack's back.

“She died because she lived several lies and forgot who she was. That's all.” Jack said.

“Maybe so—” Billy started.

Jack stopped him from completing his sentence by holding up a palm and saying, “Stop! Enough of your buts and maybes. Enough.”

At the church, Hillman held the ladder as Jack began to climb. When Billy stepped to it, Hillman blocked his way. “Give him some space, kid. We'll need supplies up there, nails and such. You can piddle around getting things together for a little while, can't you?” It was a request, not an order.

“Sure, Hill.” Billy turned away.

“For both of you,” Hillman said to Billy's unasked question. “You both need space. We'll need some planks. I'll call down a few cuts. That'll give you something else to do. Take your time. Clean up some.”

“I know. I can keep busy.”

Hillman climbed the ladder and in a few minutes called the cuts down to Billy.

“You didn't have to do that,” Billy heard Jack say.

“I didn't want to listen to it,” Hillman said.

Jack said, “Thanks,” but Hillman didn't answer back.

For the first few hours of the day, Jack and Hillman worked together as Billy kept himself busy and mumbled under his breath. Without much of a warning, Jack excused himself, climbed down the ladder and walked over to Billy. “I'm sorry for all that earlier stuff,” he said.

“You had time to come up with the words?” Billy asked.

“Yeah. I suppose I did.”

“You have any more of them?”

“I do.” Jack looked around. Piles of wood had been stacked by length, tools had been placed together, extension cords coiled neatly. “You've been busy,” he said.

“Did everything but pick sawdust from between blades of grass.”

“I'm afraid,” Jack told him. “I don't know what a father is supposed to do. How he is supposed to act. In another couple months, you'll be gone. Without Alice here, there's no reason to return. I've heard you talk with Scott and I know you want out of this town. Why should I make that decision more difficult?” Jack shook his head. “No. I'm just someone you met. We have no past together. No memories. We don't know each other. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't want to hold you back. I don't want you to have a reason to alter your goals, the plans you've already made for your life. You should go on. You have a great future ahead of you.” Jack put out his hand. “I'm just glad we met.”

They shook hands.

“That's all the words,” Jack said.

Billy sighed. “Then you're not afraid of being my father, only that you might cause me to change my plans for myself?”

“I want you to move forward with your own life without having to worry about me or anyone else,” Jack said.

“I see. And what if I don't mind the change? What if I want to see what this whole thing is really about? What if I want to play it out?”

“Then I'll be here. But do it at your pace. And if you choose not to at all, then I'll understand. We've both lived this long without each other,” Jack said, “so think about it. Think it through.”

“Good words,” Billy said.

After shaking hands once again, they both looked up and saw that Hillman stood at the edge of the roof looking down. He nodded at them. Billy wondered what Hillman thought just happened.

For the remainder of the day, the three of them worked hand-in-hand. Billy felt relieved. Jack had removed all obligation from Billy, which was fine with him. Enough had happened that summer. He didn't need to be concerned about who his biological father had been. The truth was that neither of the men had ever been a part of his life, only a shadow bearing down on him.

As Billy stepped from the last rung of the ladder, he heard his name called. “Billy?”

Before turning around, Billy responded. “Grandpa?”

“We've been wrong,” the man said, his voice shaking. “Very wrong. You have always been your own person. It was us who tried to think you into someone else. You never succumbed.” He scratched his chin. “William was a misguided young man, thrilled with his own power, just as his father was thrilled with his power. We were two of a kind, crazy with what we couldn't handle. And we both made grave mistakes with our lives.”

There was a pause as Billy stepped from the last rung and turned to face his grandfather.

“Forgive me?” Grandpa Maynard said.

Billy blinked.

“We can start fresh. Like you said, strangers meeting for the first time,” Grandpa said. “We've missed you.”

Billy stepped forward and hugged his grandfather. “And Grandma?” he asked.

“Oh, she's fine. I'm pretty sure she wants to start over, too.” He chuckled, “She's probably making tea right this minute.”

*     *     *

Billy waved as Jack watched the two of them walked away.

“That's good,” Jack said.

Hillman stood next to Jack. He looked over. “You need to talk to someone tonight?”

“No, Hill. I think I can probably be alone tonight. Think this whole damned thing through.”

*     *     *

Billy's blue truck followed close behind his grandfather's Lincoln.

Grandma Maynard wasn't exactly ready when Billy and his grandfather walked in. “So you did it?” she accused.

Billy checked his grandfather's face for a reaction. It became stern. “Nothing changed in the last few weeks that alter what I remember of Billy.”

“What about William?”

“He's been gone for over twenty years. Billy's been right here.”

Grandma's lips quivered. “What am I supposed to do?”

Before Grandpa could speak, Billy stepped forward. “You could make some tea,” he said.

“Oh, Billy.” Grandma held out her arms. Billy walked over and hugged her.

“We need to be there for each other,” Grandpa said.

“I'm not sure I'm ready for Jack, just yet,” Grandma said.

“Take it slowly,” Billy said.

Grandma let go of him and stepped into the kitchen. Grandpa put his arm on Billy's shoulder and led him into the living room. “Let's talk about something else for a while.”

*     *     *

When Friday morning arrived, Billy got out of bed much earlier than usual. After making a pot of coffee, he showered and dressed. He sat quietly in the living room sipping his coffee and thinking, until Scott snapped him out of his trance. “You were out late. How'd it go?”

With a sense of peace, Billy broke the silence with his own voice this time. “Like a family reunion. We recalled old times, told stories, and promised never to stop seeing one another.”

“You look good,” Scott said.

“I feel good.”

Scott smiled and walked into the kitchen for his first cup of coffee.

Billy gathered his thoughts and finished his cup. The two of them passed in the archway between kitchen and great room.

“You ought to grab a muffin or something,” Scott said, coffee in one hand and a blueberry muffin on a plate in the other.

“In a minute.” Billy made a quick phone call, then grabbed a muffin like Scott had suggested. He poured another cup of coffee too. From the archway, Billy told Scott he was leaving early.

“Do what you have to,” Scott said as though he knew what Billy had been thinking all morning.

Inside the truck, all got quiet. Only the muted bird songs could be heard through the closed window. As usual, though, Billy rolled the window down and let in the sounds of wind through leaves, the creaking of two trees leaning against one another, the scent of dew in early morning, all with the bird songs prominent. He started the truck and held his coffee cup in the air as he slowly maneuvered the dirt road. The muffin sat next to him on the seat, wrapped in a napkin. Once on the macadam road surface, Billy placed his coffee cup on the dash and unwrapped his muffin. Driving carefully, he turned right onto Route 22 once he hit the crossroads. When he passed his old house, he told his mother he loved her, sipped more coffee, and broke off another piece of muffin to eat. The sound of his own voice saying those words choked him up a bit, but he kept driving, kept chewing and sipping at the coffee.

The sun had peeked over the mountain before he ever turned onto 22, and now, looking into the rearview mirror, all he could see was a blinding light. Ahead, the leaves sparkled brightly, flashing as they twisted in the breeze. Already the morning felt warm. At Lamont River Road, Billy turned left. He finished the muffin, then washed it down with the last of the coffee. He placed the crumpled napkin into the coffee cup to soak up the tiny amount that accumulated in the bottom, then set the cup on the seat next to him.

He kept one eye on the road and the other on the Lamont River as he drove along it. Traffic was light. He passed a man dressed in a suit who had gotten out of a new BMW to walk down near the river's edge. By the look on the man's face, Billy felt as though he was going through a change in his life, much like the changes Billy felt he had gone through recently. His heart went out to the man.