Dream With Little Angels (27 page)

F
irst thing in the morning the next day, Uncle Henry left for home. We all stood in the doorway, watching him put on his boots and coat. He'd already packed his suitcase the night before.

“Well,” he said, gripping my shoulder firmly, “you take good care of your mama and sister now, soldier.”

“Always do,” I said.

“And maybe next time we see you, Hank,” my mother said, “my little girl here will have developed a bit more common sense.”

“Oh,” Uncle Henry said, “I reckon she's well on her way to doin' fine.” He gave Carry a hug and then hugged my mother.

“Take care of yourself, Leah.”

Gripping the handle of his suitcase, he opened the door and followed the steps and driveway down to where his car was out on the street. We watched him pull away, waving from the doorstep until he was out of sight.

I looked at my watch. “I miss him already,” I said.

Carry stood there, her arms crossed. I couldn't remember a time before this had become her usual stance. “Why do you say things like that, Mother?”

“What? That you have no sense? Caroline, honey, it's true. Sorry if I embarrassed you. Anyway, you're off your grounding. I figure at this point, I've either done my job with you, or I haven't. I just hope to God you're not stupid enough to continue dating nineteen-year-old boys after all this.”

Carry's gaze dropped to the carpet. “Mother, there isn't one boy in Alvin
or
Satsuma that will even come near me since you pointed your gun at Stephen and told him you were gonna blow his nuts off.”

That brought a smile to my mother. “Perfect.”

“He peed his pants, by the way,” Carry said, looking back up.

Me and my mother laughed. Carry went to the living room and turned on the television. My mother started pulling on her boots.

“Where you goin'?” I asked.

“I have to go into the station for a bit. Won't be too long, though. I'll be back in time to make supper.”

“Can I tag along?”

“What for?”

“Nowhere else I know of 'cept Chief Montgomery's office has satellite,” I said.

She laughed. “Problem is, I'm gonna be in that office
with
Chief Montgomery havin' a little meetin'. That's what I'm goin' for. So you can't watch TV anyway.”

“Oh,” I said, frowning.

She stood thinking a moment. “Abe, how 'bout you come into Chief Montgomery's office for this meetin'
with
me?”

My eyebrows went up in surprise. “Really?” Then I remembered the last time we tried that, and brought them down hard. “Why? So he can kick me out again?”

She finished with her boots. “I don't reckon that'll happen this time. Put on your shoes.”

I did. “Why not?” I asked, doing up the laces.

“I just don't.”

We walked outside and got into the car. I did up my belt and my mother backed out onto Cottonwood Lane and headed toward Main Street. Houses and trees swept past my window. The few clouds hanging overhead seemed thin and vulnerable. I figured they wouldn't last even another hour. The day was set to be a beautiful one. We passed a rather nice house with bushes of flowers out front, still in full bloom. Bursts of purple, blues, and reds. A nicely painted birdhouse hung from the branch of a tall oak in the yard.

Lately, I had found myself noticing details around me I had never paid attention to before. Things like trees, and flowers, and birds, and all. I suppose what I was noticing was life. “You know,” I said, “I reckon we live in one of the prettiest places in the world.”

“Where else have you ever been?” my mother asked.

I thought it over. “Satsuma.”

“Well, that ain't much to compare with.”

“You don't reckon Alvin's pretty?” I asked.

“Oh, I didn't say that. And besides, it's not my opinion that counts when it comes to something like that. It's your own.”

“Good,” I said. “Then it's settled. We live in the prettiest place in the world.”

We pulled up to the curb in front of the Alvin Police Station, and my mother and I got out of the car and went inside.

Officer Jackson was at his desk, talking on the phone when we came in. He waved hello to my mother and gave me a wink. Mr. Montgomery's office door was closed with the television on inside. It sounded like he was watching hockey or something. When my mother knocked, he lowered the volume considerably. Then, after a loud chair squeak, he opened the door. He wore brown pants and a brown checkered short-sleeved shirt. The top button was undone and his brown tie had been loosened.

“Hey, Ethan,” my mother said. I could tell she was hesitant and worried he might still be upset with her.

“Hey, you,” he replied.

“Mind if we come in?” my mother asked.

“
We,
Leah? You
and
your son? Haven't we played this scene already? I reckon that may have been one time too many.”

My mother looked back at me, proudly. “No, Ethan, I reckon you're wrong. Abe deserves to be part of this discussion. If it starts to go beyond any boundaries I'm comfortable with,
I'll
send him out.”

“And what I'm comfortable with doesn't matter?” Chief Montgomery asked.

“Not today, Ethan,” she replied. Which not only startled me, but judging from the look on his face, it surprised Chief Montgomery, too. “Ethan, listen,” she continued. “I've had some really hard months, so excuse me if I'm out of line, but I told Abe he could sit in today, and when it comes to my kids, I keep my promises. Of course, you could always fire me, which at this point, I'd welcome near on as much as winning the lottery.”

Frustrated resignation fell over Chief Montgomery's face and he held the door open while she came inside and I followed. He shut it behind us.

My mother squeezed herself into one of the two chairs in front of Chief Montgomery's desk. He sat in his big leather chair on the other side as I flopped into the only remaining one. Above our heads, the wooden fan slowly turned. Behind us, on the television mounted from the ceiling, the Chicago Blackhawks quietly led the Vancouver Canucks five to two in the second period.

Awkward silence passed for a second.

“Funny thing, hey, Ethan?” my mother asked, breaking it. “All them forensics experts from Mobile? The ones sayin' Mr. Garner did it for sure? The ones with their unbiased opinions and all? Looks like they . . . well . . . looks like they was actually wrong.”

Chief Montgomery nodded. “I know. I knew it when you told me the first time.”

This caught my mother off guard. Confusion took over her face as she opened her mouth to ask him something, but he spoke before she could.

“I had to do what I did, Leah. You were startin' to rely too much on the people around you,” he said. “You're a good cop. Good cops go with their guts.” Keeping his eyes on my mother, he gestured to me. “And if that means listenin' to your eleven-year-old boy because what he says strikes you a certain way, then so be it, but don't bring shit like that to me. You go out and
make
it work. By your
self
.”

“So you never lost faith in me after all?”

“Oh, don't give yourself so much credit,” Chief Montgomery said. “I lose faith in everyone, constantly. You, Chris, the world. But I never thought you wasn't good at your job.” With a squeak, his chair leaned forward as his heavy arms came down on his desk. His hands nearly touched the pictures standing along the outside edge of the desktop. Most of them were of his family, but there was one of my grandpa and my mother when she was younger.

I looked up over my shoulder, just in time to see Vancouver put one in Chicago's net with only thirty seconds left in the period. I quickly realized I was being rude and turned back to Chief Montgomery, who hadn't noticed my behavior on account of he was watching the game, too. “Yes!” he yelled, partially standing from his chair and bringing his fist down on his desk.

My mother looked at him like he'd lost his mind.

“My brother in Vancouver's had seasons tickets goin' far back as I can recall,” Chief Montgomery explained. “Every time I go up there, we hit every game we can. Besides, I hate Chicago. I got stuck at that airport once for ten hours.”

My mother shook her head. “Are you even interested in what I came here to talk 'bout? Maybe I should come back later, after the game's over?” She almost sounded angry.

“No, that'd make no difference. Pittsburgh plays Colorado after this one's done.” He smiled and threw me a wink.

My mother sighed.

“Geez, Leah,” he said. “Lighten up. You solved your case. It's just . . . how can I put this? You and me? We work different. My work never comes home with me. And it never gets personal. Ever. Yours does. I reckon maybe it makes you better at your job than I am, but just remember: It also makes you a potential casualty.”

“I'm not sure I understand that,” my mother said.

“Working the way you do, you run so many risks. The risk of burning yourself out. The risk of dragging your family through hell with you every time a case turns bad. The risk of potential self-destruction every single goddamn time you put your uniform on. Are those risks worth taking to be a better cop? I don't know. For me, they certainly aren't.”

After a pause, my mother said, “For me, I reckon they are.” Chief Montgomery nodded. “And I'm fairly certain your father would've agreed with you one hundred percent. But try to remember this. You've finally managed to find some closure on the Ruby Mae case. But it took
twelve years
to do it. For twelve years, you let it cast a shadow over your life and the lives of those around you. You
can't
let that happen again.
Ever
. Your next twelve years cannot be dictated by some case you don't happen to solve. Sometimes the bad guys win. It doesn't happen often, but it
does
happen. And when it does, let it go. Don't keep it inside, eating away at you for a dozen years until it finally chews its way out. It's not fair to you, and it certainly ain't fair to these know-it-all kids of yours. And I know your
father'd
even agree with me on
this
one.”

On the television, the buzzer went, ending the second period. Through the open blinds, I saw a bluebird land on the branch of a fig tree planted outside.

My mother responded to Chief Montgomery. “Thanks, Ethan,” she said, her voice very quiet.

“What are you thanking me for?” he asked. “Treating you like crap?”

“For doing what needed to be done. I know it wasn't easy. I know it hurt you at least as much as it hurt me.”

Chief Montgomery batted the idea out of the air with his palm. “Oh, just get the hell out of my office before I put you on parkin' ticket duty or something. Surely, you've got somethin' to do now that your big case is solved. You've finally closed the circle.”

“Actually,” she said. “it's more as though it's
come
full circle. And you're right, I do have somethin' in need of doin'.” Her fingers rose to the Virgin Mother hanging around her neck.

“Well, I hope it involves takin' a few days off,” Chief Montgomery said, standing from his seat and stepping to the door. “Your job'll be waitin' for you whenever you come back. I don't reckon we're gonna have a huge need for a crack detective in the immediate future.”

I said good-bye and left his office. My mother followed, stopping at the last minute to look Chief Montgomery in the eyes. “Now I understand why Dad liked you so much,” she said.

“Your father hated me.”

“He called you an ornery bastard, but as a term of endearment. Trust me. I heard how he spoke about people he didn't like.”

“Will you just
go?
I've reached my emotional quota for this week.”

“Bye, Ethan.”

“Bye, Leah.”

I was about to say good-bye to Officer Jackson and walk out to the street when Chief Montgomery called out. “Oh, and, Abe?”

I turned, nervously. “Yes, sir?”

He was leaning in his doorway, smiling. “Forgot to say thanks. You'll make a fine officer one day.”

I blushed. “You know, sir,” I said. “I reckon maybe I might.”

Everyone laughed.

 

After we left the station, my mind went into autopilot as cypress trees and strangler figs passed by my window. It wasn't until a good ten minutes or so later that I realized we were headed the wrong direction for home.

We were driving north, and soon came to Blackberry Trail, which wound its way through a dense wooded area full of all sorts of different trees. Spindly maples, tall oaks, and scrawny pines went by my window, along with a whole lot of blackberry bushes, too. Of course, I expected to see blackberries—be a silly name for a trail otherwise. It was too late in the season for berries, though. Autumn was nearly done. The bushes were just tangled thorns and the tree branches were just thin fingers. The maples looked particularly naked. Although from here I couldn't see it, the forest floor must've been a bed of color, soft and moist.

A massive cypress sped past. Its gnarled boughs, draped with Spanish moss, reached boldly toward the midday sun, as though trying to pluck it from the clear sky like a sparkling yellow diamond.

Neither of us said a word as we drove. I didn't bother asking where we were going. I figured I would find out soon enough, and if my mother wanted me to know, she would've already told me.