When Crickets Cry (30 page)

When she placed it on the beach next to her, I asked, "Any good?"

She shrugged. "It had its moments."

"What else you bring?"

Cindy readjusted the towel behind her shoulders and said, "Nothing. What you got?"

"Not much. Most of the folks I read are dead or so boring they ought to be."

"What about all those people you're always quoting?"

"You sure?"

She shrugged again. "Why not?"

I ran inside, picked Robinson Crusoe off my bedside table, pulled out my bookmark, and then made a pitcher full of raspberry fruit smoothies on my way back out the door. When I passed Charlie at the fire pit, he held out his hand. I placed a glass in it, and he placed his other hand on my shoulder and whispered something.

When we both arrived on the beach a few minutes later, dressed in grass skirts and carrying fruit drinks decorated with little umbrellas, Cindy howled with laughter.

She read and sipped her drink while I tied a clothesline from the beach back up to the barbecue pit. Charlie objected to my fussing, but the string helped. Annie and I worked some more on her sand castle-which was short on sand and long on rocks-and around four o'clock I heard a jet Ski coming north up the lake. Termite, seated atop his flame-covered two-seater, was holding a rope and towing a second three-seater Jet Ski-one I'd never seen before.

He beached both and hopped off, sniffing the air. "You were right. Smells good too."

Termite's acne had erupted again, and the few tattoos scattered across his arms and back made him look dirty and in need of a shower. He was all skin and bones, and looked like one of those mangy dogs that live around a Dempsey Dumpster in some back alley. He'd been brought up hard and looked that way.

Despite this, I didn't doubt his courage. This kid had not gonna quit written all over him. If life had dealt him a bad hand since birth, his gumption had gotten him this far. You transplant enough hearts, and you begin to be able to recognize this sort of thing.

Termite didn't wait for introductions, but followed his nose to the pit where Charlie raised the lid and explained the process to him. When he walked back down to the beach, his stomach was growling. I introduced him to Cindy and Annie, and when I did, Termite took a long look at Annie's scar. Then he looked at me but didn't say a word.

I knew he was waiting on me to ask about the second Jet Ski, so I obliged. "You always tow a second Jet Ski around with you?"

"Nah," Termite said flippantly while nervously turning his lighter inside his pocket. "Some folks out of Atlanta burned up the engine a few weeks ago, so I replaced it. Brought it along 'cause it needs breaking in before they get back here next weekend just raring to burn up another one."

"How'd they burn it up?" Cindy asked.

"They drained the oil out trying to save some money on an oil change, but then forgot to put oil back in it before they went screaming off down the lake."

Cindy nodded. "Yeah, I can see where that might mess things up."

"Yeah, well they messed up about two thousand dollars. I tell you, doctors may be smart, but they ain't always bright. Most of them are long on book sense and short on common sense." Termite spat across the beach.

His tongue looked like it was starting to fish around the edges of his mouth for a cigarette. He looked at me and waved an elbow at the jet Ski without too much enthusiasm. "I brought it along thinking you might want to take it for a spin or something."

It was the first olive branch Termite had ever offered me. I took it. "You show me how it works?"

Termite educated me on the jet Ski, giving me way more than I needed, but I kept quiet. I listened while he talked me through everything from the firing sequence of the spark plugs all the way to throttle response. When he was finished, I could have taught a class.

We pushed it out into the water and cranked it up, where it sat idling and purring like a kitten. While I wrapped and taped a plastic bag around Annie's cast-heavy arm, Cindy stood up, which brought another long look from Termite, and then walked down into the water. She climbed on and sat in back. I helped Annie into the middle seat, and then I sat in front. Termite hopped aboard his machine and then looked at me but pointed at Charlie. "He want to go?"

"He's blind, not deaf and mute. Ask him yourself."

Termite looked at Charlie and then back at me. "What'd he say his name was?"

"Charlie."

"Hey, uh, Charlie, you want to go?"

Charlie smiled and turned his hat around. "Only if you let me drive."

Termite looked confused, while Cindy and Annie laughed. "But, uh ..." He looked at me and whispered, "But he's blind."

"Yeah, I know," I said. `Just don't tell him."

Termite slid back on his seat and helped Charlie aboard.

By definition, adults who become blind have to become, if they aren't already, touchy-feely people. It's how they navigate the world. So when Charlie climbed aboard the jet Ski, placed his hands on the grips, and then patted his stomach like he expected Termite to wrap his arms around him, Termite flinched. He looked at me, then at Charlie.

Charlie sensed Termite's hesitation and said, "Termite, unless you want me to run this thing in circles like a one-legged duck, you better figure out how to help me steer."

Termite slid closer, now maybe only a foot from Charlie.

Charlie said, "Here's the deal. You pull on my arms when you want me to turn. Right arm is right turn. Left arm, left turn. One pull is a slight turn, two pulls is a harder turn, a long solid pull is just that-all the way. And as for speed, you squeeze my arm while you're pulling back. The harder you squeeze, the faster I go. Got it?"

Termite nodded, and Charlie asked him again, "Got it?"

Termite nodded again, then realized his mistake. "Yeah, I got it. But I still like girls."

Charlie smiled and said, "Me too."

Termite lit a cigarette, and then started pulling on Charlie. He looked like a kid who was milking a cow for the first time-a lot of work with little result. It took him about ten minutes to figure out how to steer Charlie. But once he got the hang of things, they managed to keep it off the beaches and away from the docks.

The five of us headed north under the bridge and up beyond the YMCA camp. We drove slowly, letting Annie get comfortable with the bumps.

After a few minutes, she tapped me on the shoulder. "I can't see."

"You want to sit up front?"

She nodded, climbed over me, plopped down in front and held on to the insides of the handlebars. That didn't bother me as much as what happened next. Cindy scooted up behind me, wrapped her arms around my waist and lightly pressed her chest to my back. She poked her head around my shoulder and said, "Onward, James."

I'm not sure who was more uncomfortable, me or Termite, but between Termite's tattoos, Charlie's blindness, Annie's scar, and our grass skirts, we made quite a sight.

We drove the lake for over an hour. Everywhere Annie pointed we went, and every time we passed a boat, Termite told Charlie, who then waved like the president on parade. Eventually even Termite started waving. The picture of Charlie grinning and waving, and Termite shaking his head in disbelief, was one of the funnier things I had seen lately. I laughed so much my stomach hurt.

At six thirty, we were all pretty hungry, so we beached the jet Ski. Cindy and Annie searched the kitchen for paper plates while Charlie, Termite, and I flipped the pig over. I handed Termite a thick pair of insulated rubber gloves and began pulling long pieces of pork from around the ribs, then from the buttocks and shoulders. Termite did what I did, and when I finally bit into a piece, he did too.

The juice smeared across his lips, oozed out the corner of his mouth, and ran down his chin. "Dang, that's good."

"Uh-huh," I said.

"Nah, I mean, that's gooooooood. You two ought to go in business or something."

"That'd take the fun out of it," Charlie said.

We carried a tray to the top of the boathouse, where the girls had spread a red-and-white-checkered tablecloth across the picnic table. After everybody had been served, Charlie sat at the head and extended his hands. Termite, who was about to stuff three handfuls of pork into his mouth, put down his food, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. We all held hands and Charlie began, "Lord . .

Annie interrupted him. "Mr. Charlie?"

Charlie looked up.

"Can I say it?"

Charlie nodded again, bowed his head, and waited.

Annie wasted no time. "God, it's been a good day. I had fun. I think everybody did. Thanks for letting us go for a ride, for keeping us safe, and for my new friend Termite and his two jet Skis. Thanks for this food, thanks for Charlie and Reese fixing it, and Lord ..." Annie paused.

I opened my eyes and saw her head tilted as she considered how to say what she was about to say next.

"Whoever's got the heart You're gonna put in me, well ... if they need it more than I do, let's just let them keep it. But if You're ready for them up there with You, well, then please help them take care of it until Dr. Royer can find somebody to help put it in me."

I was ready for the Amen, but she kept at it.

"And Lord, wherever that man is, please ..." Annie paused again, looking for the words. "Please let him know that I really need him. Amen."

Charlie said, "Amen," but didn't let go of my hand. When I pulled gently, he pulled back, bringing my eyes to his. Charlie's eyes were lost somewhere above the top of my head, and when he blinked, a tear trickled off his right cheek and landed on our hands.

He asked me to pour him a glass of tea and then asked me for the bread basket, which contained slices of overly buttered garlic bread. He passed it to his left, saying, "Cindy, have some and pass it on."

Cindy placed the basket down next to her, peeled away the napkin, and jumped four feet in the air, spilling her tea and screaming for all she was worth.

All of its but Charlie froze; he started laughing so hard that he knocked his chair over.

Cindy eyed Charlie, looked slowly back inside the basket, realized that the snake was plastic, and slapped him as hard as she could on the shoulder. "Charlie! I can't believe you did that!"

By this time Charlie had rolled out of his chair and onto the floor. Annie lit up with smiles, her face almost as covered in pig grease as Termite's.

Charlie pulled himself up, took the wiggly snake out of the basket, and said, "Did you all know that this is a china snake?" He ran his fingers along its length and pointed at the words stamped on its belly. "See, made in China."

The laughter felt good. And after Annie's prayer, all of us needed it.

CLEANUP ON A PIG IS ALMOST AS INVOLVED AS THE PROCESS to cook it, but between the five of us, we had everything cleaned and the extra meat bagged in about thirty minutes. Then, while Charlie showed Annie and Termite our workshop and boathouse-where Termite paid particular attention to the HackerCindy and I sat quietly atop the boathouse watching the sun roll behind the green hills on our right.

Cindy sat in a rocking chair, reading, while I rocked myself in the hammock. After I got my nerve up, I asked the question I'd been wondering about all day. "Where'd you get that scar?"

Cindy looked up from the book, and I pointed at her back. "The one where your kidney used to be."

"Oh." She looked down and appeared to be reading again. "I gave it to somebody who needed it."

I laughed and said, "What? You sell it on E-bay? Make a quick ten to fifteen thousand?"

"No." She shook her head, not looking up.

I realized then she wasn't kidding. "You really donated it?"

Cindy nodded and kept her eyes on her book.

"To whom?"

Cindy looked down at Annie, who was leading Charlie by the hand up the steps. He didn't need her hand, but she didn't know that and he was kind enough not to tell her.

"Stacey, my sister . . . Annie's mom. When we were much younger." She smiled. "I guess you might say that organ donation just runs in the family."

We helped Termite load his jet Skis with enough leftovers to last him a week. Maybe two. He hopped up on the seat, turned back at me, tipped his chin, and then rode off down the river pulling the second jet Ski like a pack mule. I think that was his way of saying thank you.

We drove the girls home, and I carried Annie to her bed while Charlie waited in the car. Next to her bed sat a baby monitor, the kind that flashes a series of red lights whenever a noise cues the mike. For years, Emma's parents kept a similar monitor next to her bed.

I pulled the covers up and then walked out while Cindy told Annie good night. I stood in the kitchen, growing a little uncomfortable with the idea that I was no longer uncomfortable around Cindy. I wouldn't go so far as to say I was comfortable, but it really didn't matter. Either way, my sense of betrayal grew in equal measures.

I leaned against the countertop and bumped into a plastic speaker-looking thing plugged into an outlet in the wall. The other end of the baby monitor. Speakers had changed since Emma's time. First, this one was smaller, and second, the reception was much better.

I heard Annie's voice first. "Aunt Cici, did you have a good time today? ... Do you like Reese?"

Cindy must have been nodding in answer to these queries, because I heard no reply.

Annie asked another question. "Do you think he likes you?"

This time Cindy responded, "Honey, I'm not sure. Grown-ups sometimes have a lot going on inside their hearts and ... I think Reese has a hurt heart."

"Like mine?" Annie asked.

"No," Cindy answered, "not like yours. More like he gave it away a long time ago, and when his wife died she took it with her."

"Oh," Annie whispered. "Can he get it back?"

"I don't know," Cindy said. "I don't know if he wants to. Sometimes the memory of love is so strong that it edges out most everything else." A few seconds passed. "He's waiting, honey, so you better start and I'll finish."

"Dear Lord," Annie started. "Thanks for today. Thanks for all those people who bought lemonade this morning, thanks for Reese and Charlie and Termite, and for letting me live one more day." Annie paused. "Please be with Reese and ... heal the broken places in his heart."