Deception Creek (8 page)

B
illy rose by the screaming alarm. He showered and dressed in clothes he had picked up from his house the day before. Scott's alarm went off just as Billy walked out of the house and into the damp, cool air of the woods that closed Scott's home in like a blanket. His stomach still churned, but had calmed enough where there was no more threat of being sick. What could he do? He contemplated going straight to the library, not that he'd learn anything new — although he might — but to gain additional details, some history. Still, he didn't want to risk losing his job. Plus, the work would keep him occupied enough to clear his thoughts, to regroup. As he drove down the dirt road, he noticed how hot the rising sun felt coming through the windshield. He dredged up the emotions he had felt the prior evening — the ones that had plagued him all night. His eyes began to swell with tears, so he tried to focus on other thoughts. He knew that if his mind would only shift, his body would follow.

Questions about himself and his father continued to worm their way into his mind. Would he end up a rapist? Were William and Alice dating? Who else may have been there? Jack, of course. Billy wanted answers. Yet, at the same time, he didn't want to know their story, didn't want to know what genetics could have handed him, didn't want to know how Alice or the Maynards had felt, still felt, or anything else.

Driving past the construction site, Billy pulled into an alley a few blocks away and parked the truck. The temperature was ten degrees warmer in town. He hopped out and walked out to Main, threw his empty coffee cup into a trash bin on the corner, and headed toward
the bakery that Jack's friend Todd ran. He ordered a buttered bagel and another cup of coffee, then sat in the corner, as far from the door as possible and with his back to it.

The bagel, half gone, had helped his stomach settle. He stared at the blank wall in front of him. Then, from the side, Jack walked up, passed him, and slid into the seat across from him. Billy looked up and instantly told Jack, “I don't think I'm ready for this.”

“You looked like you needed a friend.”

Billy said nothing, and it seemed as though they were going to just sit there. “I don't know if I can handle what you might have to say.”

Jack studied his hands. “When you are ready,” he said. “This isn't the place anyhow.” Jack hesitated, then got up and left.

Later, at work, Harry came over to Billy. “Your mother don't own me,” he said. His breathing was heavy and tired. “Neither does Charlie Maynard. I ain't scared of ‘em. None of ‘em. As long as you work good, I'll keep you on.”

Billy saw the thick bags beneath his eyes, the river basin wrinkles. He noticed the nicks where he'd cut himself shaving. “I'll work as hard as I can,” Billy promised.

“I know. I just wanted you to know I'm my own man. I did ‘em a favor hirin' you that first time. But you kept the job. You're a good kid. I just wanted you to know,” he repeated.

Billy shook Harry's hand. He didn't know what else to do. When Billy turned back to the job roster, he noticed that he was still working with Mel.

“Hey, Mel,” Billy said as he walked out back.

“Let's get to it. It's gonna turn hot fast today, and we wanna be windin' down this afternoon.” Mel handed Billy his trowel while talking. He had already mixed the cement.

Billy noticed Jack, working with another man this time, on a lower roof section. They appeared to be doing trim-work.
So Jack was back on the job
, Billy thought.

While putting finishing touches on the morning's work, Billy saw Harry come around the corner.

“Hey, Boss,” Mel yelled down. He put his materials down and nodded toward Billy. “He wants to talk.”

Sweat beaded along Billy's upper lip and forehead. When he wiped his lip on his shirtsleeve little happened. The sleeve was soaked as well. He and Mel stepped down on either side of the scaffolding about the same time.

Once they were closer, Harry began. “Mel, you can finish up this afternoon. I'll have a couple of the kids clean up for you. Billy, you're workin' with Hillman on the side roof. It's not that high up.”

“I'm not afraid of heights,” Billy interrupted.

“You say that now. But get you up a couple stories and see what's said,” Harry told him. “We'll start with the side roof. Hillman's a pro. He'll teach you a lot.” He turned to Mel again. “You, Mr. Brick-Man, they need downtown. That newly collapsed building. Seems their man didn't notice how bad the damage really was. I told ‘em you were the best. Told them you could see through the walls.”

Mel stretched his stocky body to its full height as if proud to be called the best at anything. “Yes, sir.”

“You might have to work late. Take one of the kids with you. Any one. Get ‘im to take notes. I want a full assessment of what it'll take. Be fair, these guys won the bid and this'll be costin' them profit-money.” Harry turned away and walked off. He was through talking.

Billy went over and slapped the ear-to-ear smiling Mel on the back. “The best.” Billy said. “Mister Brick-Man.”

“That was nice of ‘im,” Mel said.

“It's the truth,” Billy said. “Accept it. You're good.”

“Mabel says I'm good fer nothin'.”

“Well, Mabel's wrong this time.”

At lunch, Billy found Scott waiting for him at the truck. “Going okay this morning?” Scott asked.

“Yeah. I'll be with Hillman this afternoon working on the side roof.” Billy picked up his sub and unrolled it.

“That's hot work,” Scott said.

“Build my tan.”

“That it will. Hillman's a good guy,” Scott told him. Then he went right into it with his next question. “What did your grandfather tell you?”

Billy's stomach tightened. “Not enough,” he said. “I got too upset, mouthed off, and ran away like some little kid. I'm not too proud of the way I acted, but I'm glad I did it.” Billy laughed. “With every little bit of information, a thousand questions arise.”

“Want someone to talk with?”

“Jack asked me that same question this morning.”

“He did?” Scott said. “He could probably tell you a hell of a lot more than I could. But I'm a good listener.” Scott opened the door for Billy. “Just tell me when to butt out.”

Billy sat down and closed the door. “Grandpa said that Mom was raped by my dad. It appears that William had done it before. To someone else.”

“But your name?” Scott asked.

“That's been bugging me all night. I think Mom did that to hurt them. To get back at them for what William did.”

“Jesus. Why get married then?”

“Probably didn't. That's all I can figure. If what you told me before was true about Grandpa's political involvement, they probably drummed up the wedding paperwork before they moved. I haven't thought about it much to tell you the truth. My head has kind of been stuck on the fact that I'm the product of rape. That Mom really didn't want me. That Dad and Mom weren't in love.”

“Whoa. Slow down. That sort of thinking won't get you anywhere.”

“It's history,” Billy retorted.

“Their history, not yours. Don't let this new information change the way you see yourself.

“That's hard. Everything in my past that just didn't ring true at the time, the things I thought were just my inability to understand, have all turned color. Now, they didn't ring true because they weren't true.”

“I don't know what to say. Whatever their past indicates, you still turned out fine. You're the same person. None of this information changes who you are today.” Scott waited for a response and when he didn't get one he asked, “What's Jack's part in this?”

“That's where I fucked up, got pissed, and ran off. All I know is that Jack somehow witnessed the rape. He beat William to death. Maybe that's all I need to know.

Neither of them spoke for a long time.

“I don't know what I want anymore,” Billy said. “I want to know everything, the whole truth, one minute, then want to be left completely alone and in the dark the next minute.”

“You can't run away from it now.”

“God dammit, Scott, I'm leaving. Do you understand?” Billy held his half-eaten sub in one hand and pointed out from his side with his other, indicating that he'd be going far away. “I don't want to be anywhere near these people. They've wanted me out for a long time. I'm an uncomfortable reminder to have around. Well, fuck them. Fuck them all. I'll leave.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I will, God dammit.”

“You choose what you want to do with your life. Don't let them push you out if that's not what you want.”

Billy looked directly at Scott. He could see the compassion in his eyes. “I'll try,” he said.

Scott's shoulders relaxed and he nodded his approval. “If you like, I'll help you learn the truth. I'll sit with you when you talk with Jack. You name it. Or I'll sit at the sidelines and be your coach, try to keep you focused on what's important.”

“I don't know how I feel yet. Just don't give up on me. Promise you'll stick with me.”

“Agreed.”

The latter half of the day found Billy lugging shingles, nails, tar, and tools up and down the ladder for Hillman Stutz, who spent a lot of time inspecting roof damage and removing old shingles. With all the construction going on around town, a front loader wasn't available to deliver the shingles to Hillman. Billy's legs ached as he shouldered the last of the new shingles up the ladder. After setting them down, Billy stood near Hillman and waited for him to speak.

Hillman was the opposite in build from Mel. His tall, thin frame made him look lightweight. Big feet stretched out at the ends of his skinny legs like a toy punch-clown. He probably couldn't fall over even if he tripped, Billy thought. And he was quiet, relative to Mel.

Billy waited as the man flipped shingles from the roof. “What next?” Billy finally said.

Rolling his eyes up at Billy without lifting his head, Hillman said, “Do what I'm doing, but start over there.” He nodded toward the opposite side of the roof. “There's three layers. Take them all off. I want to see bare board when you're done.”

“That's it, then?” Billy said.

Hillman smiled a broad, fake smile. “That's it.”

Billy grabbed a long-handled crowbar similar to Hillman's, walked to the far side of the roof, and began pushing the tool under the shingles, lifting them up like Hillman, except that it wasn't as easy as it looked. Billy couldn't get the shingles to flip up and off like Hillman did. His arms pumped harder and one or two lifted. He hadn't gotten down to bare wood though. His aching thighs shook as he pushed the tool under the shingles. The sudden stops, as he forced the tool with his arms, assaulted his body clear to his back, between his shoulder blades. In less than half an hour, Billy had to stop. The sharp pain in his back had gotten worse. He held the long bar loosely to his side. A small patch of roof shingles were gone, a three by six foot patch of bare wood showed. Billy heard Hillman walk up behind him.

“Let me show you the easiest way to get this done.” He took his own tool and slid it beneath the first layer of shingles. “For you, start with one layer at a time. Slide the tool easily, don't force it. You'll hit a nail and it'll just stop you dead, sending shock waves back through your arms and into your body. So slide easily until you can't push any farther, then lift.” He demonstrated. Shingles lifted and pulled loose from their nails. “It gets heavy as you move upward, but just push the free ones aside every once in a while.” He motioned with his hand for Billy to try.

Billy lifted his bar and did as he'd been shown. Shingles lifted free.

“See how it works?” Hillman pointed to his side of the roof. The removed shingles lay around loosely on the bare wood. “See the angle? Allow them to lift up like that. They overlap, so they'll come up easier if you do it diagonally.”

“Why didn't you tell me this before?”

Hillman shrugged. “You got it now, don't you?”

Sweat ran down the side of Billy's head. He lifted the bottom of his T-shirt and wiped his face with it. His lips were dry and saliva thick. “Yeah,” he said. “I got it now.”

Hillman walked back to his own side and began to work again.

Billy turned back to his own work, but not until he shaded his eyes with his right hand and looked out over the town. The clatter of jackhammers, hydraulic hisses, and pounding hammers, joined and separated — the town repairing itself.

“Hey!” Hillman yelled.

Billy went back to work. Sliding the bar beneath a flat of old shingles, he pushed easily until the bar stopped. He lifted. The shingles pulled loose.

*     *     *

Jack heard Alice scream the second he got out of the car. He ran over the bank and fell face front into some underbrush. He was not at the path.

A second scream came and he was on all fours grappling to get to his feet. Blackberry bushes had already torn at his face and hands, and as he pushed through them, the thorns pulled at his pants as if trying to hold him back.

He was a powerful man in anger and in fear. When he saw Alice and William all pain left his bleeding body. All thought and logic escaped out an imaginary back door inside his mind.

Jack leaped over and plunged through the thicket, landing on the creek bed blind with rage. He kicked William's head, his boot so close to Alice she must have felt its breeze, smelled the scent of earth on its sole.

William toppled to his side and attempted to get up. He grabbed his pants in the back with one hand and raised them over his butt.

Jack stepped over Alice's surprised face and bulging eyes and kicked at William again. This time William blocked the kick with his hand, but a terrible crack snapped at the thick air and he howled in pain.