Scratch, page 12
“I know.” Adam lowered his hand to let Blue sniff it. He scratched the dog behind his floppy ears and Blue shook with joy. “He just surprised me, that’s all, didn’t you, boy?”
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Jack said, then placed the pipe back in his mouth. “You’d think after twelve years he’d learn to act his age. I reckon you got a friend for life now.” Adam smiled and continued to pat Blue’s head.
“Adam Mansfield,” he said by way of introduction, and extended his hand to Jack.
“Jack Hardy,” the old man responded and took Adam’s hand in a firm grip. Jack was a small man, maybe five foot four at the most, with a compact frame. His face, lined with his years like the core of a tree, was ruddy with health. A small crop of freckles dotted his cheeks, looking incongruously boyish. He had surprising muscle tone for a man his age, which Adam guessed to be somewhere in his mid-60's. He would have been surprised to know that early 80's was closer to the mark. Gray hair, cropped close to his skull, was visible beneath the flat brim cap he wore.
Holly got out of the car and hefted Mike onto her hip, then brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. She closed the door with her foot. At the sound Blue ran around the car to investigate. Holly patted his head while Mike giggled.
“Hi,” she said. “Did you say you were Jack Hardy?”
“Yep,” he replied around the stem of his pipe. “You must be Holly Evans?”
“Mansfield now,” she said.
“And this must be the Michaela you told me about on the phone?” Jack said. Mike hid her face behind Holly’s hair. Jack peeked around and made a face that made Mike laugh. “Nice outfit,” he said, looking at the wings that were sliding down Mike’s back. “Are you really an angel?” Mike nodded her head in sincere affirmation.
“And you,” Jack said to Holly. “You’ve grown since the last time I saw you, girl. Course you were about what? Four. . . Five then? About Michaela’s age, I figure.
“Anyway,” he continued, “I been waitin’ for you this morning. Figured you might show up today. I can show you the way up to Dora’s house.”
“Did the movers find the place okay?” Holly asked.
“Yeah.” Jack checked the bowl of his pipe. “Yesterday. We helped them get everything in the house where you wanted it.”
“You need a light for that?” Adam asked.
“Nope,” Jack said. “Haven’t smoked it for almost thirty years now. Haven’t been able to stop chewin’ on it though. You folks wanna get a drink ‘fore we go? Maybe meet some of your new neighbors?”
“That sounds good,” Holly said, and put Mike down. She paused then, and looked around the small town. Memories, like shapes in the dark, flitted at the periphery of her mind’s eye. The storefront was familiar, and evoked the flavor of pixie sticks and of holding her Grandmother’s hand. A rusty Nehi sign creaked in the slight breeze, and Holly knew she had seen it before. She looked at the footbridge and smiled as she remembered spitting over its side and watching the fish swarm to the surface. She looked at the church and remembered the pretty white dress she wore once while hymns were sung under a large tent.
And wings. . . something about wings that had never really left her memory, as her paintings revealed. Something beautiful yet sad, that she had spent her life trying to recapture. Something that always flew away before she could see it clearly.
“There used to be a tent over there,” she said and nodded toward the churchyard.
“We used to put one up for revival meetings.” Jack’s brow furrowed slightly. “But it’s been awhile. You probably was here with Dora. . . Your grandma, when you were a kid. What else do you remember?”
“Nothing,” Holly shook her head as the image fled. “Let’s get that drink. Come on, Mike.” She reached down, but Mike didn’t respond. She was looking across the road toward the laundromat where another little girl stood shyly.
“Did you find a friend already?” Holly asked as she knelt next to Michaela. “Do you want to go over and meet her?” Mike nodded. Holly stood and took her daughters hand.
“We’ll be back,” she said. “Adam, get something Diet for me, okay?”
“Okay,” he said, and watched as they crossed the road. Stephanie ran inside the laundromat to find her mother.
“She’s a fine looking young woman,” Jack said. “Picture of her grandmother at that age.”
“So you’ve known the family for awhile?” Adam asked as they walked toward the store. Blue bounced around their legs.
“Most all my life,” Jack said. “Dora and I grew up together. Broke her heart when her Caroline moved away. I guess that’s what it’s like these days, though. Not many of the youngin’s stick around here. Gotta go out and explore the world. Can’t say as I blame ‘em. Since the mines dried up there ain’t much work here.” He opened the front door and gestured for Adam to enter. Blue ran between them and went in first, toenails clicking on the scuffed linoleum floor.
The store was larger than Adam would have guessed. A small table with four mismatched straight back chairs sat in the front. An old couch, which Blue had claimed, lounged along the front window. An old fashioned Coke machine loitered in one corner, while a pot-bellied wood stove, cold and black, laid claim to the other. There was a freezer half filled with ice cream and other frozen foods. Three tall shelving units, stacked with groceries, household items, and local crafts, dominated the center of the store. There was a cooler full of lunchmeat and cheese, and cartons of milk and juice. The back wall held a meager selection of DVD's, with a hand lettered sign that read “For Rent A Dollar A Night.” A coffee pot gurgled on the checkout counter, surrounded by small displays of candy and tobacco products.
Standing next to the antique cash register, cleaning under his nails with a pocketknife was one of the largest men Adam had ever seen. He looked to be at least six foot six, and Adam was pretty sure he was slouching. He was broad across the shoulders, muscles flexing visibly under the tight flannel shirt he wore. A cap with the legend “If it ain’t Country, it ain’t music,” perched on his head, small and frightened that it would fall from that great height. His long sandy brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Hints of gray played hide and seek in his thick beard.
He looked up from his hands to greet his customers. For a moment, Adam saw something in the big man’s eyes, a look he had seen in the eyes of many of the delinquent kids he had counseled. It was suspicious, and defensive, the gaze of a predator deciding whether you were a threat or merely a meal.
And then it was gone, replaced by a broad smile as he stood to his full height.
“Howdy, Jack,” the big man said. His eyes narrowed and flicked over Adam. “Who’s your friend?”
“This here’s Adam,” Jack said. “He’s married to Dora’s granddaughter.”
“Adam Mansfield,” Adam said, and extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Big Jim Tucker,” the big man said, and wrapped his monstrous paw around Adam’s hand. The handshake was firm and seemed to say, “Don’t fuck with me because I could break you.”
“Welcome to Canaan,” Jim said. “Get yourself a soda. Whole town’s been expecting you since the movers brought your stuff yesterday.”
“How did the truck get through the covered bridge?” Adam missed the look that passed between the men as he pulled a Yoo Hoo out of the machine. “I didn’t even know they made this stuff anymore,” he added as he shook the bottle.
“It was a near thing,” Jack said.
“The top of the truck just fit through,” Jim said. “They were more afraid of the weight. Came into town and me and Jack and a couple other guys went back and unloaded ‘bout half your stuff onto our trucks, then they went through.”
“Pretty little town, here.” Adam looked out of the window and absentmindedly scratched Blue’s head. “This will be my first time living in the country.”
“It’s a pretty peaceful way of life out here,” Jack said.
“Jack would know,” Jim said. “Been here all his life. I’m like you, a transplant. Canaan’s a good town to settle down in.”
“What were the Porter’s like?” Adam asked. “Holly has some pretty vague memories of her grandmother, but that’s all.”
“Dora Porter was a fine woman,” Jack said. “Right up to the end. Some folks ‘round here didn’t get along with her. She was pretty outspoken, and lived her life the way she wanted, even if that didn’t go over real well with some people.”
“Carol said she had a falling out with the church.” Adam drained the last of the Yoo-Hoo. He automatically looked for a recycling bin, but found only a tin waste bin. After reluctantly throwing the bottle away he went back to the drink machine and grabbed a bottle of Diet Coke for Holly.
“Yeah, I guess,” Jack said. “But that’s long past.”
“What about her husband?”
“Harv Porter was my best friend,” Jack said. “A good man. One of the finest.”
“What happened to him?”
Jack chewed on the stem of his pipe for a moment before answering.
“Don’t know,” he finally said. “Harv went out for a walk one night and never came back.”
Adam was sure, with the same intuition that had served him well with his clients, that Jack Hardy was lying, or at least not telling everything he knew. Adam’s instinct was to pursue the matter, but he bit his tongue and kept his questions to himself.
“Well,” he said instead, “we should probably get going. I’m sure Holly and I have a lot of unpacking to do before we can sleep tonight. Thanks for the pop. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of you, Jim.”
“Yep.” Jim followed them through the door and out onto the porch. Blue awkwardly rolled off the couch and clicked along behind them.
Holly and Abigail were coming out of the laundromat. Michaela and Stephanie followed, holding hands and chattering steadily. They joined the men in front of the store.
“I see Mike has found a friend.” Adam handed the cold bottle to his wife.
“Friends for life,” Holly smiled. “Adam, this is Abby Molnar. I remember playing with her when we were Mike’s age.”
Adam shook the woman’s hand. He saw fingertip-sized bruises on her forearm. She withdrew her hand quickly when she saw that he had noticed.
“Welcome to Canaan,” Abby said. “I’m glad you’re here. Steffie doesn’t really have any playmates her age.”
“Mike hasn’t either,” Adam said. “We’ll have to arrange some play dates.”
“We live just down the hill from your place,” Abby said. “I’ll bring Steffie up sometime.”
Shelley crossed the street toward the store, swaying her hips in a way that she thought made her look like a runway model, but reminded Adam of a downtown hooker. He saw a couple approaching them across the footbridge. Apparently their arrival was bringing out the town welcome wagon.
“You’re late, girl,” Jim said as Shelley stepped onto the porch.
“I closed last night,” she said. “Remember? You were busy.” Adam saw the look that passed between the girl and Jim. There was more to their relationship than they wanted anyone to know. There was nothing to base that on other than body language and intuition, but Adam was certain of it. He had learned to trust his insights a long time ago.
“Hi.” Shelley extended her hand to Adam. “I’m Shelley. Pleased to meet you.” Her eyes lingered on his as he shook her hand. She wet her lips with her tongue. Adam saw Jim roll his eyes, but noticed a fleck of jealousy mixed in with the disapproval.
“Adam. And this is my wife, Holly.”
“Un-huh,” Shelly said. Her eyes were still appraising Adam as she shook Holly’s hand.
The man and woman who crossed the footbridge stepped onto the porch, crowding it even further. He was dressed in a worn black suit and his thin features were drawn and pale. The woman was an older version of Shelley, taller and thinner, but with the same familial features. She carried a covered dish.
“Welcome to Canaan,” the man said in his best Sunday voice. “You must be the Mansfields.”
“That’s right,” Adam said. “Adam and Holly.”
“I would have recognized you without an introduction,” the man said to Holly. “You’re the image of your grandma, God rest her soul. I’m Reverend Toland, though everybody pretty much just calls me Raz. This is my wife, April.”
“Hi, Sis,” Shelley said to her sister. “You look good today. More rested than usual. Get to bed early last night?”
Adam saw the quick glance that passed between Jim and April, and noticed that Raz didn’t see it. There were a lot of secrets floating around Canaan apparently.
“Why don’t you get inside?” Jim said to Shelley. “You could check and see what we need from the bakery. I’m making a supply trip later today. You’ll probably need to close again tonight.”
“Fine.” Shelly leaned over and picked up an old cigar that was lying on the ground. She casually tossed it in the trash, then swayed past Jim and went into the store, her eyes flashing defiant amusement.
“I made you this.” April handed the covered dish to Holly. “It’s a lemon meringue pie. I wanted to make apple, it’s my best. But there aren’t any good apples this time of year.”
“Thanks,” Holly said. “You didn’t have to…”
“It’s nothing,” April said. “We take care of our neighbors out here. We took the liberty of stocking your refrigerator and cupboards with a few of the basics. We didn’t figure you would be bringing groceries with you. Jim has most of your day-to-day stuff here at the store.”
“There’s a Food King in Bakersville if you need to make a big shopping trip,” Jim said. “That’s about a twenty mile drive, so have a list.”
“If you’re still here next winter,” April added, “make sure you really stock up. Sometimes with a big snow we don’t get out of this valley for days.”
“I understand you and Shelley cleaned the house for us, as well,” Holly said. “Thank you.”
“Wasn’t much to do,” April said. “Other than some dust and airing out it was pretty much as your grandma left it. She was such a dear woman. We left everything where it was. If you need anything else, be sure to let us know. I’m sure Shelley would love to baby-sit for you sometime if you need to get away for a while.”
“Thanks.” Holly slipped her hand into Adams and treated him to a smile. “I think I’m going to like it here.”
“Will you be attending church services?” Raz asked.
“Well,” Adam stammered. He felt a tension pass through the people on the porch. “We hadn’t discussed it…”
“That wasn’t meant as pressure to attend,” Raz said. Adam almost thought he saw relief on the preachers face. “I was just curious. We have a general service on Sunday morning, which you’re more than welcome to attend.” Something in Raz’s voice made Adam think they wouldn’t be that welcome.
“On Wednesday’s we have a special evening healing service,” Raz continued. “I’m afraid that is for invited members only.”
“That’s okay,” Holly said. “We probably won’t be in church for a while, but thanks.” Raz nodded, and Adam felt the tension lift.
“Jack,” Holly continued. “We should go. I really want to see the house. Is it as big as I remember?”
“It’s pretty big,” Jack confirmed. “You can follow me up the hollow.” With that he moseyed to his truck. Blue climbed in and stuck his head out of the passenger’s side window, tongue dripping spit.
“Well,” Adam said, “good meeting all of you. I’m sure we’ll see you soon.”
“Say goodbye to Steffie, Mike,” Holly said. “You can see her again later.” Mike pouted, but relented and allowed Holly to pick her up and put her in the car. Steffie waved as they drove away.
“So that was the Mansfields,” Raz said. “April, could you call Nellie and tell her we need to have a meeting of the church board tonight. Our place, as usual. We’ll meet around eight, after I’ve seen to Gabrielle.
“There are new people in Canaan,” he said. “We need to discuss what to do about them.”
CHAPTER THREE
“Wow,” was all Holly could say as they stood in the front yard of her grandmother’s house. It didn’t loom as large in reality as it had in her memory, but it was still huge. It stood three stories tall, including a basement and an attic that was bigger than their entire apartment had been.
“Pretty impressive,” Adam admitted. He carried a small suitcase in one hand while Michaela was propped on his other arm.
“I should go.” Jack handed the key to Holly. “Let you young folk start making a life here.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hardy,” Holly said. “For everything you’ve done for us.” Holly leaned forward and gave him an impromptu hug. Adam saw a look of surprise on Jack’s face, which quickly melted into one of pleasure.
“It was nothing,” he said. “And don’t ever let me hear you calling me Mr. Hardy again.”
“What should we call you, then?” Holly asked. Jack chewed his pipe stem for a moment, lost in thought.
“Well,” he said finally, “I reckon Jack will do,”
“Gran’pa Jack,” Michaela chimed. Jack beamed.
“That’s fine by me, little lady,” Jack said, and tweaked her nose. Mike giggled. “That is, if it’s okay with you.”
“She seems to have taken a liking to you, so I don’t mind if you don’t,” Holly said. “You’re a connection to my grandparents. And don’t think I’ve forgotten your offer to tell me stories about them, either.”
“Gladly,” Jack said. “Well, it looks like Blue is getting impatient.” The dog was asleep on the front seat of Jack’s truck. “I better go before he takes a notion to drive off and leave me. Did that once, you know.” Michaela’s eyes grew wide. Jack’s eyes twinkled.
“Yep,” he said as he climbed into his truck. “Hit another car and got me in a heap of trouble
“Blue ain’t got insurance,” he concluded. He waved as he drove up the dirt road home.
