Deception Creek (7 page)

Jack's hormone-driven mind turned to thoughts of Alice. He pushed on faster, sorry he'd be late. His hands gripped the steering wheel and his foot came down harder on the gas pedal. His mind raced to the future and the smooth sights he'd see. He breathed heavily and his mouth became dry. Gritting his teeth, Jack bobbed his head to an invisible tune and wished he hadn't taken that extra trip through town. What was he thinking?

The hawk swooped into the field, landed briefly, and lifted again with something—a field mouse or vole—in its talons. The sight urged Jack's blood into his face and hands. Anxiety and excitement merged, pushing his frustration higher. He pounded the steering wheel and made the turn at Pine Creek Road accompanied by squeals and flying gravel.

Pine Creek Road wasn't used as often as the new highway that borrowed its name, but the road did follow Pine Creek at the base of the mountain.

With the windows open, the noise of rushing water took over the car, similar to the noise a train makes as you wait at the crossing. Two more turns and he'd be at the place where he could pull off the road far enough to be out of the way of local traffic.

Alice would have walked there, starting earlier than Jack. A small trailer park was situated at the southwest corner of the old Ricket Farm. She would have walked up Ricket Run Road to Pine Creek Road.

By now Jack was angry with himself for his tardiness. Alice had complained about it several times and he feared, this time, that it would cause them to argue instead of make love.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he said to the steering wheel, pounding it over and over again.

When he saw that another car occupied his normal pull-off spot, he slowed way down and took an earlier, narrower spot near the rapids, but into some weeds.

He couldn't hear anything over the roar and got prickers on his pant legs from the weeds. He stopped long enough to brush off his pants, then began to jog, face flushed, and hands fisted, toward the bank that would lead to where the creek slowed and widened, to where Alice would be waiting.

J
ack didn't show up at work Thursday morning, and Billy asked Scott if he knew where Jack might be.

“The Baptist Church,” Scott said. “They needed repairs like the ones done here.” Harry sent him over there. Don't you read the job roster?”

“Not enough, I suppose.”

“I saw your mom with Harry this morning.”

“Mom?”

“Harry didn't look too happy. He was changing the roster when I showed up. She looked pretty wired, so I told her that you spent the night at my house.”

“Thanks for covering.” Billy looked into the sky and took a deep breath. “I better get to work.

He started to walk away when Scott yelled after him, “She wanted to know if you were alone.”

Billy turned back. “Figures,” he said.

At lunch, Scott suggested Billy might talk things over with his mom. “Maybe straighten some of this out,” he said.

“I'm not going home tonight,” Billy said, raising his eyebrows. “If that's all right with you?”

“You can stay as long as you like, but you ought to head home and collect a few clothes. Maybe leave a note.”

Billy threw up the tailgate and jumped into the cab. “Will do.”

The note he left taped to her bedroom door simply read: “
I need space!
” Then, at the bottom of the page, he wrote, “Maybe I
should
talk with Jack.”

Billy pushed himself with a vengeance the rest of the afternoon. He wanted answers, but didn't know where to find them. When Mel tried to make friendly conversation, Billy answered in short responses, then finally just glared at Mel.

“All right, all right. You don't wanna talk. Well, it don't make it no fun for me then.” Mel worked silently for a few minutes. “Your mood's like the plague, it just spreads, you know?”

After work, Billy found Scott. “I decided to see what Grandpa knows. I'll be over later if that's okay?”

“The house will be open. Just walk in.”

“You're a pal.”

As Billy headed for his grandparents' house he began to relax. The sun went down behind the mountains. The air took on the scent and coolness of the forest. He passed the South Side Baseball Field, and heard the announcer reading through a change in lineup. He slowed to see if he recognized any of the names. Ritter, Hoffman, Leighman, Ulrich. They were all names he knew, had grown up with, and had left when he left for college. Billy reminisced as he drove. He was never the baseball player Grandpa Maynard could be proud of.

Billy pulled into his grandparents' drive. Grandpa Maynard stepped out the door and yelled from the porch. “You comin' in?”

Billy waved quickly and jumped down from the truck. As he walked toward the porch, he tried to refocus his thoughts. He didn't want to say anything about William's death while his grandmother was around. She'd only nix the whole conversation before it got started.

“So, what brings you this way? Need a place to stay?” Grandpa's words came out uneven.

“Mom called?”

“Last night. Late. I told her not to worry, but you know your mother.” He turned away. Billy couldn't maintain eye contact.

“She's crazy.” Grandma Maynard said as she carried in her tea tray. “And she's getting worse.”

Grandpa sat in his chair and motioned for Billy to sit on the couch with his grandmother.

Billy sat down and automatically reached for a teacup. “She's right,” he said. “That's why I decided to leave for a few days. I'm staying with a friend. Scott Pierce. You might know—”

Grandpa Maynard nodded as Billy spoke, then finished the boy's sentence. “His father. I do. Brilliant man.”

“So is Scott. Very creative,” Billy said.

“Well, you could always stay here, too, you know?” Grandma said.

“I thought of that first,” Billy lied. “But I'd be in and out at all hours and didn't think you needed the commotion.” He drank some tea. “Besides Scott and I work together. It's easy for both of us.”

“You don't need to explain, son.” Charlie Maynard looked at his wife. “He made the right choice.” His words were directed at her.

“Getting out of there was the right choice,” Grandma said as though she didn't notice her husband's comment.

Hurt by their remarks, Billy said, “I don't like how she gets so fanatical either, but she's still my mom.”

“Well, the two of us aren't always on the same page is all.” Grandma Maynard said before she let it drop.

“Let's not go there, shall we?” Grandpa Maynard said.

Billy downed his tea. “Grandpa, could we take a walk?”

“Sure.”

The two of them stood up to go.

Grandma Maynard looked up from her place on the couch. “You two have a nice walk.”

The air had turned cool outside. The night sky stretched clear and cloudless overhead.

Billy looked at the ground, then at his grandfather. “You know why I'm here.”

“I have my suspicions. Of course your mother did some ranting while on the phone last night. She actually wanted me to call Harry and have you let go.” He paused. “Or have Jack Roberts let go.”

“Why didn't you?”

“I don't know, Billy.” They turned left at the street and headed into the wind. “At one time, I wanted Jack dead. What had happened bothered me and your grandmother for years. Almost broke us up. We had to get through a lot of pain. Did all sorts of things — support groups, counseling,” he shrugged his shoulders, “moved.”

“Why Jack? What happened?”

“We kept everything from you for a reason, you know? I want you to know that.”

“Was Jack the driver?” Billy asked.

Grandpa stopped and looked into the hills. His head tilted up. His chin stuck out, tight-skinned from gritting his teeth. “I get mad just thinking about it. But no, Jack wasn't driving anything. Your mother will hate me even more for telling you this, but Jack Roberts beat your father to death.”

Billy's shoulders went weak and his lips pulled in. His chin wrinkled. “Why didn't anyone tell me? How could you stand it?”

“You know what worked best?” Grandpa said. “Seeing you almost every weekend. Once you were born that is. We started to focus on you. We decided to raise you just as we had our son.”

Billy was speechless. He walked with his grandfather, followed him, really. There was too much information to comprehend clearly, so he listened and walked. Silent. In deep thought. “Your mother got in the way of our raising you. From the start she made it difficult, acted as though we owed her something. We began to resent her. I'm not proud to say this, but we let her rule. I decided,” he pointed at his chest with one quick motion, “that we'd go along with her — to the extreme. We couldn't fight her. We were tired by then. Her energy was too great. She knew just what to say and when.”

Grandpa Maynard had led them back to the house. As Billy assimilated what his grandfather had told him, he got up the nerve to ask, “Why would Jack do such a thing?”

Grandpa Maynard cleared his throat. He lowered his eyes. “We're not proud of any of this.” He stopped. “That's why we don't talk about it. That's why we gave in.” He bit his lip. “It really wasn't for you to know when you were younger. I hope you understand that. Of course, nobody really knows much. Only your mother, Jack, and William were there when it happened.

“Where?” Billy prodded.

Charlie Maynard stopped in his tracks and turned toward Billy. They stood in the drive. He grabbed both of Billy's shoulders and squeezed. “This is hard. But I'm glad it's me telling you and not your mother.” He took a deep breath. “Alice, well, William… William raped your mother.” He lowered his head.

Billy pushed away. “What?”

“She became pregnant with you. It wasn't the first time William had assaulted someone.”

“No. No, I won't believe this. Why wasn't I told? What's Jack got to do with it? Why was he even there?”

“It's okay, Billy.” Grandpa Maynard said. Then he hugged Billy, who stood motionless.

He forgot about Jack. There was a more pressing question on his mind. “Why did she have me? Why did you let her? If, if, I was unwanted?” Billy stuttered.

“You weren't unwanted. You were all we had of our William,” Grandpa said.

Billy pulled away. He laughed. “I was the replacement for your son? A constant reminder to Mom about what had happened to her. No wonder she tells me she gave up her life for me.”

He shook his head and backed away a few more steps. “What the hell kind of shit is this? No one wanted me — not the real me. I was a burden to Mom and a replacement for you. No wonder you always pushed me into sports. You wanted William back.”

“No, Billy. It's not like that. Once you were born—”

“No!” Billy turned and ran back to his truck.

He pulled onto the street and sped down the road, squealing his tires as he turned the corner. The night air stung his eyes as it rushed through the window. He pounded the steering wheel. He turned onto the Lamont River Road. There would be less traffic than if he
went through town. Billy slid off the road on several turns, once getting the back end of the truck to slide along the road shoulder, throwing dirt and twisting the truck so that it jumped back onto the road at the wrong angle, squealing and turning into the wrong side of the road. Billy floored it and at the next turn almost hit a station wagon filled with kids. One face in particular stared at him in horror. Just before entering Route 22, Billy pulled over. His hands shook. His head turned back and forth, rejecting what he'd heard.

Billy didn't want to go to Scott's house, couldn't go home, and the library was closed. Not that he needed to read the papers now. A car passed, waited at the stop sign a few yards ahead of him, then turned onto 22. He wasn't far from home, but didn't want his mother to see him, even though it was unlikely that she would. He'd pass in front of his house, but be all the way out at the end of their drive. She couldn't see through all the trees and bushes to the road. He drove quickly past the house anyhow and at 107 turned towards Shannon and Scott's house, reducing his speed to a crawl so he could think.

He had forgotten about Jack. What was Jack's story? How did it fit in with Alice's and Grandpa's? He swore under his breath. Now who could he ask? Not Alice and not Grandpa Maynard. He didn't want to see either of them for a while, not until he could think things through.

He could hardly imagine what had happened. How could William have done such a thing? Always proud of the football hero, how could he look up to his father now?

Billy pulled the truck off the road and jumped out quickly. He ran around the back and threw up. His stomach churned and his mind cluttered as he puked until nothing more came out of him. Kneeling at the side of the road, Billy cried out loud. He spit. He shook uncontrollably in the cold air. “I am not my father,” he said in a whisper. “I am not my father.”

*     *     *

Alice was being watched.

She had known it and danced seductively until she realized who had come to see her. Then she stopped, facing him.

His shirt was off and his bare skin glistened. He walked slowly, but was determined, stumbling once on his way over the bank. He grabbed at a sapling to catch his fall, but his eyes never left Alice.

She reached up to untie her blouse and let it fall back over her midriff, then brought her hands to her shoulders. “What are you here for?” she said.

“What have you got?”

“Nothing for you.”

He laughed. “It's for everybody and you know it.”

Alice stepped backwards, twisted her ankle as her foot fell between two rocks, and stumbled onto her butt. Water splashed around her and, as she sat there, seeped into her clothes, wetting her skirt and panties.

“Don't be scared.”

“Stay away.” She moved in slow motion. “Leave me alone.” She turned to get up, but he shoved her back around.

He reached down and ripped at her blouse, throwing several buttons, like bullets, into the water. Then he reached down and lifted her bra from its center bridge, letting both her breasts fall out.

Alice fell back into the water and kicked at him. When that didn't work she attempted to scoot backward, pushing with her arms and legs. Stones slid under her shoes and hands, slowing her progress.

William dropped his pants and kneeled over her. He stared at her jiggling breasts and tore her panties to the side.

Alice felt the pressure of the elastic band against the outside of her leg. The water flowed into her hair and around the back of her head. The tide pool was shallow, but how shallow? Holding her head up, she tried to kick herself backwards again, but it was no use. Her legs were spread and William had reached around them and grabbed her thighs to pull her toward him.

He pushed into her and she screamed louder than she thought she could.