Iris Avenue (26 page)

“They’ll all be so hung over tomorrow I don’t know how they’ll make it to the funeral,” she said as she slid behind the wheel.

“All that smoke is not good for you or the baby,” Drew said. “I’m sorry, Hannah. That must have sounded like scolding.”

“No, you’re right. I’ve been sitting in the office with the side door open, breathing fresh air, but I don’t think that helped. I’m going to have to quit working there, too, I guess. This baby has certainly dropped a bomb on my working life.”

“I thought there was a state law that all businesses had to be smoke free.”

“Technically the Rose and Thorn is a private club,” Hannah said. “They just happen to have open house for new members six nights of the week.”

Drew talked about his evening with Tommy, and Hannah told Drew about the basketball game bet. They talked about the murders, and about Brian escaping. They talked about the grant application, and the feral cats that they hoped to rescue and redistribute instead of exterminate.

“I’m to the point where I can’t stomach the killing,” Hannah said. “I know sometimes they’re dangerous and damaged, and not safe to be around. I know it’s a horrible life living in a cage, but at least they get enough food, and get to breathe the air and see the sky a few times per day. Isn’t a damaged life better than no life at all? After all they’ve been through, don’t they deserve some peace and dignity, even if they can’t be the cute lapdogs we want them to be? People made them the way they are, don’t people owe it to them to make it up to them, somehow? Or at least accept them the way they are? They can’t help it if they can’t be what we want them to be, and we have no right to demand it.”

“Are we still talking about dogs?”

Hannah gave Drew a puzzled look.

“What do you mean?”

“The war made your husband the way he is, and now he can’t be the way you want him to be. Isn’t that it?”

“That’s not the same thing at all.”

“I think it is. I think the two situations are very similar. Trained killers, violence, damaged ability to socialize that can’t easily be overcome. I’m not trying to trivialize what Sam went through, I’m just seeing the parallels: the psychological damage, physical pain, scars, the stigma, and how difficult it is for you to trust him not to revert back into what he had to be to survive.”

“I understand what you’re saying,” Hannah said slowly. “But I resent you comparing what veterans go through with dogfighting. It especially offends me on Sam’s behalf. He joined the Army in order to defend our country. He got hurt while voluntarily ensuring our freedom. That’s a completely different thing.”

“I’m sorry,” Drew said. “I just think part of the reason you feel so strongly about the dogs is because of what Sam’s going through.”

“My husband is not a dog.”

“I didn’t say I thought he was,” Drew said. “I’m sorry, Hannah. That was a bad analogy; my lame attempt at amateur psychology. I’m sorry I said anything. Let’s change the subject.”

Instead they were quiet the rest of the way to Hannah’s farm, and were almost to the end of the long driveway before Hannah noticed that the lights were on in the farmhouse, and her husband’s van was parked outside.

When they pulled into the parking area, someone turned on the porch light, and two men walked out the side door from the kitchen.

“Is that Sam?” Drew asked. He almost added, “Standing?”

Hannah unsnapped her seat belt, threw open her door, and ran into the arms of her husband, leaving Drew to introduce himself to Alan, Sam’s friend from MIT.

“Let me show you the barn,” Drew said, and Alan couldn’t hide his relief at having somewhere to go.

Back in Rose Hill, heavy clouds moved in and obscured the stars, and then the moon. The wind whipped through the trees in the park, and a dead branch fell to the ground with a crash. Scott was keyed up and wide awake, so he made a slow surveillance drive of Rose Hill. He started down by the river, on Lotus Avenue, and then drove around every block all the way up to Morning Glory Avenue. At the end of that block he saw a man walking out of Possum Holler, so he pulled up beside him and rolled down his window.

“Hello, Gabe,” Scott said.

Maggie couldn’t sleep, she couldn’t read, and she couldn’t sit still. At two thirty she was organizing the clutter in the lower kitchen cupboards when there was a knock on her balcony doors. She turned and saw Gabe’s face framed in one of the windows. It felt as if her heart stopped beating for a moment, and then thumped hard in her chest when it resumed.

As she stood up she was painfully aware of her flannel pajamas and robe ensemble, the fuzzy slippers, and what she knew was a wild head of hair. She couldn’t look at him as she fumbled with the lock on the doors, and he came in on a blast of cold wind. She could smell him then. Even though there was a different detergent smell to his clothes, and a stale cigarette smell about him, underneath was Gabe’s scent. It smelled like home.

“Maggie,” he said. His look was tender and his voice was the same warm voice she used to know. He reached for her and she took a step back. It was instinctive, and it surprised her as much as it obviously stung him.

“I’ll make tea and then we’ll talk,” Maggie said.

He looked around the kitchen while she put on the kettle. He picked up objects and set them back down; he looked at everything on her bulletin board; he studied her niece’s and nephew’s artwork on the door of the fridge.

She didn’t want to look at him, and she put it off as long as she could. He finally came to a stop, and stood leaning back against the counter. It was as far apart as they could get and still be in the same room. Maggie had boiled the water but made no move to prepare tea. Instead she turned off the gas ring.

She turned and made herself look at him, their eyes met, and instead of the longing she expected to feel, or the lust she was afraid she would feel, the predominate emotion was sadness. As he had in the light of the streetlamp, he looked exhausted. He was so thin. His skin was pale, his brown eyes were bloodshot with dark shadows beneath them, and there were deep lines on his stubble-covered face. He smiled, and Maggie noticed his teeth had yellowed. The youthful strength and vitality she remembered were gone, an old nicotine stain left in its place. He coughed, and it sounded bad, from deep in his chest.

“Are you okay?” she asked him.

“I’m out,” he said. “Anything else is beside the point.”

“I met your son today,” Maggie said. “He looks like you, but also like his mother.”

“I wanted to tell you about them before they got here.”

“Where were they when we were, when you were here before?”

It seemed too easy after so many years of not knowing. She could finally ask all the questions she had and Gabe himself would tell her the answers.

“Maria was done with me when I went to prison, the first time, I mean. I didn’t think I’d ever see her again; she told me I wouldn’t. She was pregnant when I went in. After I got out, her father and brother came to meet me, told me they would kill me if I tried to find her. They brought me a letter from her, telling me to stay away. So I did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been in prison? Or that you were married and had a child?”

“If I’d told you I was an ex-con with a wife and kid, would you have gone out with me?”

“No,” she said. “I wouldn’t have.”

“I thought I could leave all the mistakes I’d made behind me. I wanted to start over.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when Mrs. Wells threatened you?”

“I knew how you felt about lies, Maggie. I’d told so many by then.”

“Everything was a lie, then,” she said. “All of it.”

“Not everything,” he said. “I did love you, Maggie. I still do. I didn’t want it to end the way it did. When Scott came to our house that night, he gave me the option to stay and be arrested or disappear. I couldn’t face you. I’m sorry.”

“When you wrote that letter, what did you think I’d do?”

“I hoped to see you and tell you the truth about everything before I went inside. I felt I owed you that, at the very least.”

“And now you have your family back.”

“A few years ago Luis decided he wanted to know who his old man was, and Maria hired a detective to find me. It turned out the prison was less than an hour away from where they live. They started visiting me, and Luis and I e-mailed each other every day.”

“You’re still married.”

“Yes. Her people are devout Catholics.”

“Are you going back with them?”

He looked away.

Maggie felt like he’d punched her in the gut.

“You are,” she said. “You never had any intention of coming back to me.”

“I’ve promised Luis to try to be a good father to him, to be a good husband to his mother. Maria’s offered me a second chance. I thought I’d be stupid not to accept her offer. She knows me, knows all my faults, but she’s willing to try. She’s a fine person, Maggie, too good for me.”

“Then why are you here?”

He shrugged.

“To explain, I guess. To say I’m sorry.”

“Well, thanks for that,” Maggie said. “You can go now. Good luck.”

“Maggie,” he said, and came toward her, reached out to her.

“No,” Maggie said. She batted his hand away and opened the door to the balcony. Another blast of cold air came in and Maggie was grateful for the feel of it on her hot skin.

“Maggie,” he said, from so close, and although it was the same Gabriel smell underneath the cigarettes, it turned her stomach.

“Please go,” Maggie said, with her hand out to keep him at a distance, but looking him right in the eye. “I want it to be completely clear to you that there’s nothing here for you anymore. Nothing with me, I mean. I wish you well, but I don’t want to see you again if you can help it.”

“Alright,” he said. “If that’s what you want.”

She crossed her arms and stepped back as he went out the way he came in. Duke the cat ran in the open door and almost tripped him. She noticed his fur was wet and that a light rain had begun to fall.

“You have a cat?” Gabe asked. “I thought you hated cats.”

“I don’t hate cats, I’m allergic to them,” Maggie said.

She shut the door behind him, locked it, and closed the curtains. If she could have built a brick wall right then, over the whole shebang, she would have; plus maybe a fence with razor wire on top of it. Maggie sprayed room deodorizer to take away his smell, scrubbed the kitchen counters and every surface he’d touched, and then mopped the floor. Afterwards, while the washing machine scalded the clothes she’d been wearing, she took a hot shower and scrubbed her skin until it was raw.

Scott picked up Gabe in the alley and took him back to Lily’s house.

“How’d it go?” Scott asked him.

“You know Maggie,” Gabe said. “She’s not the forgiving type. She never wants to see me again.”

“I’m sorry.”

“At least I got to say what I needed to. I want to apologize to you, too, Scott. We used to be friends.”

“I forgave you a long time ago,” Scott said. “As long as you do the right thing now, you and I will have no problems. I hope you and your family will be very happy.”

“You’re in love with her,” Gabe said.

“I am,” Scott said.

“Were you back then, too?” Gabe asked.

“I’ve always loved Maggie,” Scott said. “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t.”

The silence grew but Scott was an expert at waiting,

“I still believe she belongs with me,” Gabe said. “But if it has to be someone else, I’m glad it’s you.”

Scott didn’t respond, but they shook hands before Gabe got out of the car.

At four o’clock in the morning veterinarian Drew Rosen and prosthetics engineer Alan Davidson took the Pine County Animal Control vehicle and set out in the pouring rain to check the humane traps Hannah and Drew had set the day before. It was against county policy for anyone who wasn’t a county employee to drive the vehicle, and if discovered, both men would certainly be prosecuted, and Hannah would be fired. None of them cared about that this morning. When Drew and Alan left the farmhouse that morning, Sam and Hannah lay entwined in their bed, amidst a tangle of blankets and snoring dogs, exhausted after a night spent talking about Sam’s physical therapy experience and the son or daughter that would arrive with the red leaves of autumn.

When Bonnie Fitzpatrick and Sean left the family home, rain was lashing the windows and Sean could hear both his father and brother snoring peacefully in their warm beds. As soon as they were in the kitchen of the bakery, Bonnie tied an apron around her youngest son and showed him how to use the large Hobart mixer. She handed him the recipe for the sweet yeast rolls she planned to serve at the funeral reception. The faded words were written in the hand of her former nemesis and mother-in-law Rose. Sean swallowed some aspirin and strong coffee to combat the hangover that he didn’t dare mention. The sound of the mixer scraped the inside of his skull, and he cursed his sleeping big brother silently but thoroughly.

Ed Harrison, Tommy Wilson, and their two dogs arrived at the newspaper office in time to meet the truck that delivered the big city daily papers. Since it was Sunday, they also delivered the Pendleton paper, so it was double the work to roll each one and drop it in a plastic bag so it wouldn’t be ruined in the rain. They talked softly while they sat at the worktable and rolled the papers, watching the puppy crawl all over a forbearing Hank, who gave Ed a doleful look as the pup, now named Lucida (Lucy for short) bit his ears and shook them with a fierce puppy size growl.

“It’s going to be a miserable ride out there,” Ed said. “How about we make a big pancake breakfast at home afterward?”

Federal agent James R. Brown received a phone call. He crept out of Ava Fitzpatrick’s bed, dressed, tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen, and quietly let himself out the back door. There he got inside a dark SUV that was waiting in the alley. Ava turned over in bed with a smile lingering on her lips, which were still a bit swollen from the agent’s passionate kisses.

Lily Crawford got up, made coffee, and let Betty Lou out to do her business. Betty Lou was followed by the scampering, long-legged young cat Lily called Snicklefritz, who took one step out into the rain and then ran back to the safety of the porch. Lily had heard one of her house guests go out and return in the night, and hoped that his wife and child had not. She wondered why the FBI agent pretending to be her nephew would allow a witness to leave the safety of her house, and then reckoned it was just so he could follow him to see where he went.

Brian Fitzpatrick was lying on his back in a deep ravine off a lonesome, narrow track in the dark woods of the Pine County State Forest, having crashed his sister’s car and been thrown from the vehicle. He was pretty sure his back was broken because he couldn’t feel anything below his waist. He was racked with cold and soaked to the skin; tremors like seizures ran through his chest and down his arms.

Through the trees that towered above him he had watched the moon appear and disappear behind dark clouds as it seemed to cross to the west. Storm clouds flashed lightening, followed by earth-shaking thunder. He hadn’t prayed since he was a boy, but he felt now might be a good time to resume the practice. According to the prison chaplain, it was never too late to be forgiven and saved. As the rain beat down on his face Brian prayed for someone to rescue him. He heard a rustling noise in the nearby foliage and prayed nothing would come and eat him. As it became clear to him that no one was coming, he prayed for a merciful death.

Brian could feel his life force, a buzzing energy that had hummed loudly in his ears when he first crashed, begin to leak away. At first he struggled, even though it hurt so much it took his breath away. Finally, exhausted, he lost the motivation to do anything, think anything, or want anything. He drifted in and out of consciousness, so he wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he heard someone or something crash through the brush down the hillside, and then a woman’s voice calling his name. He tried, but he couldn’t respond. He felt a sharp pain in his chest. Then he began to feel lighter, everything was suddenly bright, and it wasn’t at all scary. It was actually kind of pleasant.

By mid morning three inches of rain had fallen, added to several inches of a melting snow base that was cascading down Pine Mountain. The beaver dam blocking Raccoon Creek broke apart and a flash flood surged down the Little Bear River. River gauges put into place by the Corps of Engineers detected the sudden rise in water level and sent a signal to the man in charge of the operation, who was just sitting down to breakfast with his wife.

Police Chief Scott Gordon received a frantic phone call from Fire Chief Malcolm Behr, and alerted his two deputies to meet him down on Lotus Avenue. The volunteer firefighters were arriving as he did, and started going door to door, alerting residents of the need to evacuate their homes immediately. The fire station’s warning siren began to wail, fire trucks were moved to block Pine Mountain Road and Peony Street, and a crowd began to gather in the darkness.

“If neither of the dams fail, Lotus Avenue will still be flooded,” Malcolm told Scott. “If one of them breaks we’ll be flooded up to Marigold Avenue, and the pressure of the water may take out all the houses on Lotus as it goes by. I hate to think what will happen if they both go.”

“I’ll alert the college,” Scott said, and ran back to the patrol car.

Although the dorms were high enough on the hillside they shouldn’t be in danger, Scott didn’t want to take any chances.

“Stay on the radio,” Malcolm shouted to his men. “If that dam breaks, I want you out of there.”

The Rose Hill Women’s Club and Whistle Pig Lodge members were alerted by phone tree and convened at the Community Center to set up a temporary shelter for displaced residents. Elbie brought the church van down to transport the elderly, and Cal Fischer pulled his boat up to Iris Avenue so that it could be used for rescues if needed. His wife and dog had already evacuated their little house on Lotus Avenue.

The sun had not yet peeped over the mountains to the east but the sky was light enough so they could see the water rise. As the river rose and began to run faster Scott felt like the whole community was collectively holding its breath. Malcolm’s team had begun waking up residents on Marigold Avenue as the swell of water converged on the train tracks and the empty Rodefeffer Glassworks buildings. The old train depot was built up high enough that the water did not quite reach the first floor, but it swirled around the building and uprooted a tree next to it.

Scott felt equal parts terrified and thrilled as the water swept over Lotus Avenue. Felled trees and debris, swept up by the rushing water, slammed into the wall between Eldridge College and the town, but the hundred-year-old stone wall held. Scott helped Patrick carry his father’s wheelchair down to the sidewalk, and then Fitz himself, grumpy, hung over, and still wearing his pajamas and robe.

Malcolm listened to his radio and then called out that the two dams were holding. The crowd gathered on Iris Avenue cheered.

“They’re holding for now,” Malcolm said to Scott. “But they won’t hold forever.”

Ed and Tommy walked down to where Scott was standing.

“Can Tommy stand here with you for a minute?” Ed asked and Scott nodded.

Only Tommy’s wide eyes could be seen beneath the enormous rain poncho Ed had made him wear. Scott had to suppress the impulse to hold his hand as if he was a small child.

“We won’t let anything happen to him,” Scott said.

Ed walked down Pine Mountain Road to take some photographs.

“It’s still too dark for them to be any good,” Ed said after he walked back.

Mayor Stuart Machalvie came strolling down the street holding a big black umbrella, smiling and greeting everyone on his way. When he got to Scott and Malcolm, he greeted them, shook their hands and then looked suitably serious and concerned while Ed took a few photographs.

Afterward Stuart said quietly, “The governor has declared this a state of emergency. If we’re lucky both dams will break, and then we’ll get enough state and federal money to build a hydroelectric dam.”

The mayor went on down the street, shaking hands and making reassuring noises, and Malcolm shook his head.

“Count on Stuart to already be figuring out how the town can make money off a tragedy,” Malcolm said.

Within the hour Malcolm received a radio transmission that one of the dams had been breeched. Through a bullhorn he ordered everyone to move up two blocks. Pendleton firefighters arrived and joined in the effort to evacuate the homes on both Marigold and Iris Avenues.

Scott left them and his deputies in charge of the scene and went back to the station to call the county sheriff’s office. He heard the phone ringing as he closed the door behind him. It was county sheriff’s investigator Sarah Albright.

After a brief conversation Scott hung up the phone, hurried back out of the station, then jogged across the street and down the block to the Fitzpatrick family’s service station. Patrick was inside, telling his father and Uncle Curtis about the dam failing. Fitz was propped up in his wheelchair, sipping coffee that Scott assumed was spiked with a fortifying ingredient. Banjo the beagle was curled up in the corner, sleeping.

“I remember the flood of 1952,” Fitz said. “The water came all the way up to Rose Hill Avenue.”

“We were lucky that time,” Curtis said. “It was a slow rise and not a flash flood; we had time to prepare. If both dams break, Cal may be fishing bodies out of the river.”

Scott asked Patrick to come outside with him for a moment.

“What’s up?” Patrick said when they got outside. He crossed his arms and stuck his hands under his armpits to keep them warm.

“They found Brian; he’s been in a car accident and he’s in pretty bad shape. They’re taking him to the hospital in Pendleton but they’re not sure he’ll make it.”

“Son of a bitch,” Patrick said, and looked out over Scott’s shoulder. “Damn it to hell.”

“I’ll be glad to take your mom to the hospital in the cruiser. It would be faster.”

“Thanks, Scott,” Patrick said. “You go get the car and meet me at the bakery.”

Patrick went back inside. By the time Scott got the patrol car and arrived at the bakery Bonnie was standing outside in her coat and scarf with Sean holding an umbrella open above her. Scott thought she looked as if she’d aged ten years since he saw her last. Sean, Patrick, and Bonnie got in the backseat of the car, and Scott asked, “What about Maggie?”

The words had just left his lips as Maggie rounded the corner and came running down the middle of Pine Mountain Road, her raincoat and long red curls flying out behind her. She got in the passenger side of the patrol car, her ringlets dripping with rain. She turned around to look at her brothers and mother.

“What about Dad?” she asked.

“He’s going to stay with Curtis at the station,” Sean said.

Scott turned on the flashing lights.

“Wait!” Maggie said. “What about Ava?”

“She’s already there,” Scott said. “Agent Brown took her.”

Maggie looked back to gauge the reaction to this information. Sean looked grim, Patrick looked angry, and Bonnie’s crumpled, tear-streaked face broke Maggie’s heart.

It normally took a half hour to get to Pendleton, but they were there in twenty minutes thanks to the flashing lights and police siren. Scott let them out at the emergency room entrance and told Maggie, “I’ll park and be back in a minute.”

The staff on duty would not let Bonnie go back to where Brian was. She was forced to sit with her sons in the waiting room, where she cried into Sean’s shoulder. Maggie paced outside the entrance until Scott came back.

“What happened?” she demanded. “They won’t let Mom go back.”

“All I know is that he was driving your car in the State Park, went off the road into a ravine, and was thrown from the car. A hiker witnessed the accident and called the park ranger, who called the county sheriff’s office, and Sarah went out there. They had to use climbing equipment to get him out, and at one point on the way here in the ambulance he had no pulse. The park ranger said the hiker saw two vehicles driving pretty fast, one was your bug, one was an SUV in pursuit, but the SUV seems to have disappeared.”

“Why was he out at the State Park? I figured he’d be in Mexico by now.”

“I don’t know.”

Maggie and Scott entered the emergency waiting room just as Agent Jamie Brown came through the swinging doors from the nether regions of the department, following a woman dressed in a white medical coat who had a stethoscope hanging around her neck. Jamie glanced at Scott and nodded, but followed the woman. Maggie and Scott followed him. They all stopped in front of Bonnie.