Dark River Road (15 page)

“No, sir.”

Reverend Hale smiled. He sat back and put the tips of his fingers together, like the steeple hand game children played. “Do you have carnal thoughts, Chantry?”

He looked back at the floor and didn’t answer.

“It’s natural,” the reverend said after a moment. “It’s man’s nature to have those thoughts, and God’s intent they be vanquished.”

If God intended they be vanquished, Chantry wondered, why’d He give them to men in the first place? Not that he’d ask the reverend. He wanted this to be as short as possible. It was an excruciating torment to even be here.

“Chantry. Have you ever
 . . .
been intimate with a female?”

His jaw set. He wouldn’t answer that if the devil himself poked him with a pitchfork. It wasn’t anybody’s business but his own.

After a lengthy silence, Hale said softly, “It’s a sin of the flesh, my son. Lust is one of the seven deadly sins. Perhaps the deadliest of all. It causes men to break vows, to lie, to cheat, to even kill.” His hand slammed down on the desk top so suddenly and loudly Chantry jumped and looked up at him. “It is the direct path to the very gates of Hell.”

He could almost smell the sulphur and brimstone.

Reverend Hale was just getting warmed up. He warned Chantry about the wages of sin and his duty to confess everything, even down to the smallest detail, to purge his soul and banish the devil from his heart. He came around to the front of the desk and sat right in front of Chantry so he couldn’t look anywhere else, and asked him if he had sordid dreams at night about unnatural acts. Chantry didn’t know what he meant, and finally said he just dreamed about girls.

That gave the reverend more fuel for his fire, and he launched into a diatribe about the lure of wicked females, so that Chantry began to think maybe the good reverend had known more than a few himself. He went into great detail about breasts and womanly parts, how they could trap an unwary man and cost him his soul.

When he’d exhausted himself, he got the Bible and had Chantry read passages from the book of Solomon, then told the story of how King David had been led into sin by Bathsheba and displeased God.

Chantry’s stomach growled. It was after two o’clock and his only day off and Reverend Hale didn’t seem any closer to getting to the end of his counseling. He’d had enough. He closed the Bible and stood up, startling the reverend into silence.

“I’m going home,” he said, and pushed the Bible into the reverend’s hands. “Thank you.”

He only said that last because it was polite and Mama stressed courtesy. Reverend Hale didn’t say anything, so he shut the door behind him and left the church.

When he got home, Mama had saved him a plate. She warmed it up and put it on the table in front of him. Rainey’s truck was gone from the driveway, and Chantry guessed he’d gone to his own services down at the Tap Room. He wondered just what Rainey had heard to make him say what he had last night about people talking. Mama kept looking at him funny, and he knew she must be wondering, too.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said when he’d finished eating meatloaf and mashed potatoes. “I swear to God.”

“Don’t swear, Chantry.” She brought him a bowl of peach cobbler. It smelled sweet and nutmeggy. She’d even put a spoon of whipped cream on top. It was her peace offering.

He felt better once he’d eaten, and thought about what he should say to make Mama feel better, too.

“Maybe your doctor friend can help Mikey when he gets back to Memphis,” he said after a moment, and Mama’s hands went still in the kitchen sink where she was scrubbing up the pans. She had her back to him, and had changed into a long skirt and sweater that she often wore around the house in the winter. He saw her back go straight, her chin go up, and wondered what she was thinking.

“Yes,” she said. “That is possible.”

“He has the same name as me,” he ventured after a moment of silence. “Callahan, I mean. I thought
 . . .
I mean, I wondered if
 . . .
if he knew my dad or it’s just a coincidence.”

Mama started washing the pan again. She scrubbed it with a wire brush, then rinsed it off and put it in the wooden dish drainer. “He never knew your father,” she said softly after a long silence, and then she wiped her hands dry and left the kitchen without looking at him.

Chantry stared at the spot by the sink where she’d been. He’d had this crazy hope that maybe this Doctor Callahan was a link to the man he wanted to know and knew he never would. But Mama locked everything so deep inside her that it was impossible to find out anything.

Sunday afternoons he usually spent with Shadow. It was the only time he had relatively free. It was cold and damp today, so he took the dog with him out into the woods, following the same path he’d followed that night with Tansy. Shadow snorted happily along the ground, picked up squirrel scent and deer scat and other game, and bayed his “tree” song so loud other dogs far off in the distance answered.

Then Shadow got too far away, and Chantry whistled him back. He didn’t come. The lure of the chase was stronger than the habit of obedience. Catahoula Curs had aggressive natures, and answered only to an “alpha” figure. If Chantry couldn’t convince Shadow that he was bigger, stronger, and the top dog, he’d never be able to control him when he got full-grown. Some full-grown males hit upwards of ninety pounds. He’d not thought Shadow would because he’d been so small, but he might end up growing into his potential yet. These dogs were bred to bring down wild boars, bears, and bulls. He knew what all the books said: Loyal, loving, intelligent, Catahoulas needed consistent obedience and a light but firm hand. Abuse would be dangerous to both master and dog. That was something Rainey had never understood. He’d tried to discipline Belle and she’d shown him her teeth. She’d been gone within the week, traded for the truck and a little whiskey money.

It took over an hour, but finally he found Shadow by following his bay to where he’d cornered his quarry. He’d treed a raccoon, a big, pissed-off male glaring sleepily down from a tree branch down near the river. Chantry quickly got Shadow under control and snapped on the leash. The dog gazed up at him with pure joy, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth and his light, clear eyes gleaming.

“Good dog.”

Shadow leaped up again, ready for more fun. Chantry had enough fun for the day. His feet were wet and cold, and he was chilled to the bone. They weren’t far from the railroad bridge and cave he and Tansy used, and he decided to check it out before heading back. He’d left in a hurry the last time he’d been there.

It was empty, hidden behind the vines. He ducked inside with Shadow, and saw the blanket spread on the ground. He must have left it out that night. It’d be soggy with all the rain lately. Damp river air mildewed everything.

The blanket was surprisingly dry. He folded it up and stuck it back in the plastic tub, then looked around for the wine Tansy had brought that night. The bottle was gone. Maybe she’d come back for it. He set the lantern back in the hollowed out part of the dirt wall at the rear, and when he did, several foil packets fell out to the mossy floor. He bent to retrieve them, and then paused.

Rubbers. Some of the packets were empty. Some still sealed. He stared at them for a long moment. Tansy would never bring anyone else here. It was his and hers, their secret place. She’d never do that. Maybe someone else had found it, had been using it.

Angry, he stuffed the condoms into his pocket. Next time they trespassed, they’d find their stash gone. That’d put a kink in their pecker.

When he got back home, Rainey was there. Sitting in front of the TV in the living room with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. Chantry had already fed Shadow and put him back in the pen, so he left his muddy boots outside on the step to clean later and tried to slip past the door unnoticed.

“Boy.”

Chantry paused. For a drunk, Rainey had ears like a fox. “Yessir.”

“Where you been?”

“Training the dog.”

“Come ‘round here where I can see you.”

Reluctantly, Chantry went into the living room and stood just inside the doorway. The TV flickered, an off-brand model that didn’t get great reception, but did pretty good for not having any kind of cable hook-up. Mama said they couldn’t afford that. Rainey hit the mute button.

“How’s the dog doin’?”

“Coming along.”

“When’s he gonna be ready to sell?”

“I’m sending off the money to register him for the GCSA in a couple of weeks. I figure we can take him to the trials by this time next year.”

“That’s too long.”

Chantry sucked in a deep breath. “Maybe this spring or summer then. He’s pretty quick.”

“Needs to be quicker than that. Yore mama’s worryin’ me to death about money.”

If Rainey’d stop drinking up his disability check, they’d have more money, he thought, but knew better than to open his mouth about that. Silence fell again. Rainey scowled.

“Well? Ain’t you got nothin’ more to say?”

“No sir. He’ll be ready soon.”

Anything to stall him. Rainey thumbed the Mute button on the remote and sound popped back on. Chantry faded back into the hallway. Mama must be studying her lesson plans. She did that in her room with the door shut when Rainey was watching TV. It was the only peace she got most of the time.

He took a shower and put his muddy clothes in the hamper, then put on a sweatshirt and his sweatpants and socks. He fretted over Rainey. He didn’t want him getting impatient and doing the “bird in the hand” thing. He had a couple hundred dollars stuck back in a tin hidden in the dog pen, but that wouldn’t be nearly enough to satisfy Rainey if he got a decent offer for Shadow.

Mikey was already asleep, so he turned the bedroom light on low and got his books out to study some before bedtime. He was behind, and if he didn’t turn in his homework he’d end up with a failing grade. He had to keep up or Mama would make him quit his job, and then he’d lose everything. He studied for a while, going over American history and memorizing dates and names and places.

When he woke up, his head was on his history book and the clock said nine-thirty-two. He was surprised Mama hadn’t come in to wake him. He shut the book, got up from the small desk against the wall, and went into the hallway. It was quiet in the house. The TV was off, and he didn’t hear any noise. Only the kitchen light was on.

He looked in, and saw Mama staring out the back door at rain dripping from the eaves of the garage. She had the door open, her arms crossed over her chest, and stood so straight and still she could have been carved from marble.

“Mama?”

She turned slowly to look at him, and he saw that her face was wet like she’d been out in the rain. He hesitated.

“Did you find your dinner?” she asked, and he shook his head. He hadn’t even thought about dinner after talking to Rainey and taking a shower. She pointed to the fridge. “It’s in there if you are still hungry.”

He fixed a plate of fried ham and black-eyed peas, with a wedge of cornbread, and didn’t bother to heat it up but ate it cold. Mama kept her back to him, staring out the open door. There was something so defeated about her tonight, like she’d faced some big challenge and lost. When he was through eating, he washed up most of his dishes and said he was going to bed.

Mama turned finally to look at him. “I hope today with Reverend Hale helped you.”

He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Yes, ma’am.”

“It is so hard for me to know the right thing to do. To say. You are growing up so fast.”

Not fast enough, he thought. If he was, he could take care of Mama and Mikey. He’d get rid of Rainey. And he’d get them all the hell out of Cane Creek.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said when it seemed like she wanted him to say something. She smiled then, and crossed to put her arms around him and hug him tightly. A tremor went through her as if she was cold, and he put his arms around her and hugged her back so hard she finally laughed.