Falling for June: A Novel (24 page)

32

I
T’S MORE THAN
a little unconventional,” the county clerk said, “but I think we can let it slide.”

“I appreciate it. I really do.”

“It’s just that we usually need to see easements for ingress and egress before we can push a short plat through.”

“I’m glad you’re making an exception.”

“I help where I can.” He sighed deeply, as if his authority was a burden nearly too heavy to bear. He continued sorting through his logbook as he spoke: “I’m putting it in as nonconforming, of course. We’ll call it a family plot since your Mr. Hadley here owns the dominant property too. He just better hope he never sells it.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“We had a fella in here split himself off a parcel for a gold mine before he sold to his brother. Thought he was being real cute. Was sure he’d hit the mother lode and was gonna keep it all to himself. Heh! Greed. But he hadn’t thought of any ingress or egress easement either, and when his brother figured him out, well, he refused to let him cross onto his parcel. Stood guard with a twelve-gauge. As fate would have it, the only other access was a goat wall, a sheer granite cliff on top of which was state forestland. I’ll be damned if that silly son of a
sap didn’t fall four hundred feet to his death trying to rappel into his parcel and his precious mine. Funniest part was he had no will and no kids and his brother got the parcel back in probate. I merged the two again like it had never happened. But a thing like that will surely teach a fella the importance of ingress and egress.”

My mind was beginning to turn in a direction I didn’t like. “So, let’s say someone did buy this other property,” I said. “The main parcel. Like let’s say the bank foreclosed and sold it. Could someone be buried in this cemetery parcel later or would they need permission from the new homeowner?”

He glanced at the map, shaking his head. “I suppose you could hike up over Whitehorse there and down into the gully, but that’s one hell of a trek hauling a body. That’s why I say it’s good it’s a family plot on family land.” He stamped the short-plat document and turned and put it on the copier. “You want one copy or two?”

“Better make it two,” I said.

I had an ache in my gut all the way out to Echo Glen. And it wasn’t from the MoonPies either. The clerk in the recorder’s office had left me with an earful of stories and a sinking feeling. How was I ever going to tell Mr. Hadley that we had failed to anticipate a way to get him access to and from his wife’s plot? This new bit of bad news meant that once he moved, not only was it possible that he could never visit June again, but he also had no guarantee that he could be buried there next to her.

I racked my brain the entire drive, searching for a way to fix the situation. I knew the bank would never sign off on an easement. While carving off a sliver of land had no real effect on the property’s overall value, recording a permanent access easement across it would. Plus, it could call out the fact that someone was
buried on the adjacent parcel, whereas there was nothing to disclose as things stood. And now that I had hand-delivered the bank Mr. Hadley’s signature on the deed in lieu of foreclosure, they had no incentive to do anything. I wasn’t sure how badly Mr. Hadley might take the news, but I was fairly certain his response couldn’t be good.

He didn’t answer the door, even after I knocked several times. I headed around back, assuming he was up at Echo Glen visiting June again. But something stopped me before I hit the bridge. It could have been just a gut feeling, or it could have been that I heard the TV. I went back and peeked through the bay window, past the rooster and into the living room. The TV was on, blaring out the ever-late-breaking news, and Mr. Hadley was slumped in his chair, with his chin on his chest.

Was he breathing? I couldn’t tell.

I rapped on the window. He didn’t respond, so I rapped again, louder. Still nothing. Now I was getting concerned. I took out my cell phone and dialed his number. I heard the phone ringing in the kitchen as I looked through the glass, but still he didn’t move in his chair. My pulse quickened; my neck began to sweat. I tried the back door but it was locked, so I ran around to the front. That door was locked too. Next I tried the kitchen window, but it was jammed with a wooden dowel that would only allow it to open an inch or two. I circled the house, trying every window I could reach. They were all either locked or painted shut. When I returned to the back of the house, I was out of breath and panicking. Another look confirmed that Mr. Hadley remained slumped lifelessly in his chair.

“Screw it!” I peeled off my jacket and wrapped it around my hand. Then I punched out the window and cleared the glass shards from the frame. I hoisted myself up and rolled into the house, coming to rest at the rooster’s feet. I scrambled up and ran over to him, kneeling in front of his chair and gripping his
shoulders. He fell limply into my arms. Then his head jerked up and his eyes popped open.

“Are you all right?” I asked breathlessly.

He looked at the broken window, the glass on the floor. Then he looked at the blaring TV and back at me. He appeared disoriented and confused. His face was flushed.

“Mr. Hadley. Are you okay? Should I call for help?”

I held him there in my arms, ready to carry him to my car and rush him to the ER. Where was the nearest one? I had no idea. Could I remember CPR?
Remember?
I’d only ever seen it in movies. Before I could decide what to do, Mr. Hadley reached up and carefully removed one of my hands from his shoulder. Then he reached past me to the table beside his chair. He picked something up and tucked it into his ear. He repeated the process in the other ear, adjusting the hearing aid volume. Then he looked at me and said, “You must have really missed me.”

“Missed you?”

“Yeah, I’ve never had anyone break a window and climb into my living room just to give me a hug.”

“This isn’t funny, Mr. Hadley. I think maybe you’ve had a stroke or something.”

“Why would you think that?”

“You seem dazed and confused.”

“Wouldn’t you if you fell asleep to Wolf Blitzer and woke up being shaken by someone who’d broken into your home? I thought maybe I’d dreamed myself right into the broadcast.”

“I was worried,” I said.

He laughed. “As am I.”

Then I realized how silly the situation really was. Here he had simply dozed off without his hearing aids in, and I’d jumped to the conclusion that he had up and died in his chair.

“Would you mind if I turn the TV off?” I asked.

“Please,” he said. “I’m not sure why I ever turn it on.”

I reached for the remote but it wouldn’t work.

“The batteries are dead,” he said. “That’s why I took my hearing aids out. I was too tired to get up.”

I rose and switched off the TV. The silence was a nice change from all the urgent jabber and debate.

I looked at the broken glass on the floor.

“I better clean this up,” I said. “Do you have a dustpan?”

“With the broom in the kitchen pantry.”

He insisted on helping me sweep up the mess. He found a roll of duct tape and some cardboard boxes and we patched the broken window. Then we stood back to look at our work.

“I’ll have someone come by and fix it tomorrow,” I said. “I’m really sorry.”

“Let the bank fix it,” he replied. “And don’t you be sorry. Old Sebastian would have praised you as a man of action. A comrade in courage. Plus, it tells me you were concerned.”

“Well, I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Come and sit down with me,” he said. “It’s time we have a real talk. There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Okay. There’s something I need to tell you too.”

Instead of the kitchen or living room where we usually sat, he brought me into June’s studio. He said he felt like she was in that room more than any other and he wanted her to sit in on our chat. There was a daybed in the corner with a wingback chair next to it. Mr. Hadley lowered himself onto the bed. I sat in the chair.

“There’s something I need to get off my chest,” he said.

“No, let me go first.”

I was afraid that whatever he might have to say could only make what I had to tell him even worse.

He nodded. “Okay then.”

“I have some bad news.”

“You do?” He looked immediately concerned. “It’s not about the short plat, is it? It went through okay I hope.”

“No, it’s not that,” I said. “It’s recorded. I even filed the deed transferring the new parcel to the Echo Glen nonprofit. That’s not it.”

“Well, what is it?”

“The problem is something we overlooked. I don’t know quite how to say this, Mr. Hadley, so I’ll just spit it out. They made an exception on the short plat since this cemetery is a family plot, but we didn’t include any easement for ingress and egress to access it. And even if we had tried, I doubt the bank would have gone for it.”

“That’s okay,” he said.

“Maybe I’m not being clear. We really screwed up. Once the bank sells this place off, you won’t be able to even visit June without the new property owner’s permission.” I choked up a little, swallowing before going on. “What’s worse is I can’t even guarantee that you’ll be able to be buried next to her when your time finally comes.”

He must have seen that I was struggling because he leaned forward and placed his hand on my knee. “It’s okay, Elliot. It’s fine.”

“It’s not okay. Here I thought I’d done this great thing but now you have to leave in thirty days—almost three weeks now, actually—and you won’t be able to go up and see June like you’re used to. Maybe you could just sneak onto the property. But people get shot doing that. And hell, the new owners could put up a gate. Or have dogs. And then what’s even harder to swallow is someday when it’s finally time—”

“You don’t have to worry, Elliot. Everything’s fine.”

I paused to catch my breath, realizing that my mind was running nearly as fast as my pulse was racing. “What do you mean everything’s fine?”

He sighed, glancing over at June’s empty wheelchair. “You don’t have to worry because I’m not moving out.”

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“But I don’t—”

“I’m not moving out because I plan to die here, Elliot.”

“I don’t understand. You’re supposed to be out at the end of the month. We signed a deed in lieu of foreclosure.”

He patted my leg again. “You’re not hearing me,” he said. “I won’t make it that long.”

“Oh, come on. You’re not dying. I mean we’re all dying, right? But not soon. You could live a long time yet.”

He shook his head gravely. “I’m dying and I’ll be buried next to June before anyone can sell this place.”

I didn’t believe him. I didn’t believe him because what he was saying made no sense, and I didn’t believe him because I didn’t want to believe him. Mr. Hadley dying? No way.

“Get out. You’re pulling my leg.”

“I’m much sicker than I look, Elliot. I’ve been battling cancer for years. It’s moved from my liver to my lungs.”

“Cancer. Really? What about surgery?”

“I’m already missing half my colon and various other bits and parts I won’t bother you about.”

“Radiation then. Chemo.”

“Been down that road. The simple fact is I’m dying, Elliot. And the truth is I’m okay with it. I’m tired. I’m tired and I’m ready to be with my June again. She died on this daybed while I sat in the chair you’re in now. She liked to look out at the creek and the trail that leads up to Echo Glen. I plan to die the same way before the month is out.”

My jaw was quivering and my knee was bouncing beneath his hand. I had to get up. I stood and paced the room.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “Is this a joke?”

He watched me, shaking his head. “It’s time for me to rejoin June.”

“
Rejoin
her. That sounds poetic, Mr. Hadley, but what if there’s nothing after this life? What if this is it?”

He shrugged. “I don’t believe that, and I don’t think you do either. But if there is nothing else, I’ll be with June in Echo Glen. And just being near her is enough for me.”

I stopped pacing and faced him now, grasping for hope. “Okay, but you can’t possibly know when exactly you’re going to die. No one does. It can’t work like that.”

He nodded. “Yes, it can. The doctors have given me very little time, Elliot. And this state allows people in my position to be prescribed assistance in deciding when the time has come.”

“What do you mean
prescribe
d
?”

“I’m sorry, Elliot. I know this is difficult.”

I walked over to the window and looked out at the creek and the path. The story he had told me, the trip up to Echo Glen. He was dying and he wanted to be buried next to June, but he was losing his home. He needed the bank to sign off on a quitclaim so he could make Echo Glen an official cemetery so they could lie undisturbed. He had planned this whole thing, playing me like a fool.

I turned around to face him again.

“So, you used me? You knew all along that you’re dying and this whole thing was a ruse to get me to do your bidding.”

“It wasn’t a ruse, Elliot. I just didn’t tell you everything.”