Redemption (35 page)

“
He is?” Overton turned and saw Daniels handing a cell phone to Jimmy Lee. “Who from? Creed Rydell?”

Autumn steered Overton away from Travis. “Not from Creed, Miles. From his brother. Watch.”

He doesn’t have a— Daniel!
Overton tried to pull away, but Autumn held him fast.

“
Relax, Miles,” she said. “Do a little more nothing, okay?”

Overton saw Jimmy Lee’s lips quiver, saw him drop the phone, saw him sink to his knees, heard him howl, heard him say “See you soon, Bro,” watched in awe as he fell face first into the dirt.

Jesus!
Overton turned out of Autumn’s grasp and ran to Jimmy Lee, found a pulse, and picked up the phone. “Daniel?” he whispered. “Daniel?”

“
Hoodis?”

That sounds like the guy I talked to at Romelo’s.
“Daniel, I need to talk to you.”

“
Soon, Sheriff, soon,” Daniel said. “We gonna have us a nice long chat. Peace out.”

Overton listened a long time to the dial-tone before handing the phone to Daniels.

“
I’ll make sure Mr. Sellers gets home safely,” Daniels said, and he and Travis lifted Jimmy Lee, laying him out in the back seat of the BMW. Daniels handed three documents to Overton. “Here are the deeds for the three parcels of land, one to the head of each family.”

Overton looked at the deeds. “You want
me
to do it?”

“
Yes,” Daniels said. “And you had better do it quickly. Hurricane Anthony is on his way.” He waved at the crowd, bowed, and left in the BMW. The crowd descended from the shadows and crowded around the foundation.

“
Sheriff Overton has an announcement to make,” Travis said over the loudspeaker.

“
I do?”
How can I have an announcement to make when I’m not even part of this?

Travis clipped a mike to Overton’s collar. “All you gotta do is call out the names.”

Overton’s mouth went dry, his heavy breaths echoing from the loudspeaker.
A thousand, no, two thousand eyes are watching me.
He swallowed and cleared his throat. “Uh, here are the deeds.” He held them up. “Uh, the first one says Mrs. Debra Harper.”

A young boy no more than seven years old led an ancient bronze woman to the table, Autumn trailing behind, tears in her eyes. Overton held the deed out over the table, but the woman didn’t move to take it.

“
She’s blind,” the boy said.

“
Oh,” Overton said, and he walked around the table, placing the deed in Debra Harper’s hand.

“
Thank you kindly,” Mrs. Harper said. “Which creek we get, Taevon?”

Taevon read the deed slowly. “Says Dogwood Branch.”

She smiled. “Nicest one. You’ll love playin’ in it, Taevon. Your grandpappy used to play in that creek
all
day. Had to switch his legs to get him to come in for supper.” She turned in Overton’s direction. “Thank you, Miles Overton.”

Overton couldn’t speak for a few moments as he watched Mrs. Harper led away, Autumn’s arm around her neck.
That was amazing.
He saw Travis motioning to the sky and saw thunderheads rolling in, blotting out the sun.

“
The next,” Overton said, “is for Jefferson Willis.”

A bowlegged man with a cane, Coke bottle glasses, and a fedora stepped forward. He tipped his hat, took the deed, and faded into the crowd.

“
Man’s a hundred and one,” Travis whispered in Overton’s ear. “Hope I can still walk at that age.”

Lightning ripped through the sky above, thunder ringing out a few seconds later, the leaves on the trees dancing. “The last one is for Ezra Poindexter.”

Overton recognized Ezra the second he emerged from the crowd, a wiry, tall man with large hands and Callie’s high cheekbones. He took the deed and kissed it. “Nice to finally meet you, Sheriff. My niece has told me all about you. This is a great thing you’ve done.”

Overton looked at his empty hands.
But I haven’t done anything. I can only wish I had. All I’ve done is hand out three pieces of paper.
He looked up at all the faces, at the smiles and the tears, and said, “Thank you all.” A raindrop plopped onto the table. “We got us a hurricane coming, y’all. Y’all best be going, and, uh, drive safely.”

No one moved. More large drops of rain fell, kicking up dust, audibly crackling in the woods.

“
Folks, it’s supposed to be a real rainmaker,” he added, but still no one moved.

Instead, one after the other lifted their faces to the rain, welcomed it, let it splash on them, smiled at it, and drank it out of the sky.

“
I, uh, best be going,” he said. He unclipped the mike and handed it to Travis. “Y’all take care, hear?” He moved around the table, and the crowd silently parted, whispers of “God bless you” and “Praise God” accompanying him all the way to Autumn’s car.

Miles Overton had never had so many goose bumps in his life.

57

Almost home.

The journey that started in that hot summer of 1965 is almost over after many a wrong turn, many a false start, and too many abrupt stops. Too many people had to die on this journey, but we’re here. At least we’re here.

Thirty-five years ago. Where does the time go?

I was so young, so scared.

“
You’ll be fine,” Mama said. “We need you to do this.”

I was thirteen.

I was only to tempt the Senator while his wife and Jimmy Lee escaped the heat for their annual trip to Europe. I wasn’t supposed to get pregnant. I wasn’t supposed to have a baby at fourteen.

“
Now we’ve really got him,” Mama said.

Silence. We kept our silence, and the Senator kept his. He did right by us, voted our way, was generous, almost became our savior. Would he have been our savior if J wasn’t born? Probably not. We knew that.

Blood ties are a powerful thing.

He never visited, called, and never held his son. He shook J’s hand once at some sports award banquet. I still have the picture. It was the only time J’s father ever touched him. I know it hurt J not to know his father, but J was going to be our champion. He had to know hurt. Hurt helps you get back all you’ve been promised, all that you’ve lost. Even though he was the firstborn son, the rightful heir to the Seller fortune, he had to live hurt.

Then Jimmy Lee found out. The Senator had to have told him. We didn’t. We kept our part of the bargain. A father betrayed one son to another.

When J died, I quietly lost my mind, and I found it again with Miles. Such a simple man, an honest man, a decent, good man. They’re rare around here. He helped me find my mind again and without knowing that he had.

I sent Isaiah north to guard our next champion, made my list at the reading of the will, watched and waited. I buried Mama, and I nearly buried Romelo. I wept and waited. Studied, researched till my eyes didn’t want to see anymore. Planned. Waited some more.

Then the plane crashed, just fell out of the sky. A sign.

They were nice people, simple like Miles. Honest. Raised Daniel right. Taught him the Bible. Taught him all about retribution and redemption. Taught him right from wrong.

All I did was show Daniel that retribution and redemption are the same thing, that sometimes you have to do wrong to make things right. Retribution ... redemption. A vicious cycle, yes, but it defines the history of humanity.

Daniel was a quick learner, and it’s sometimes hard to believe that he’s only fifteen.

But I was only thirteen ...

And now, outside, God’s cleanin’ house. Good day for it. A hurricane is God’s broom. Sweep away, Lord Jesus. Sweep away.

58

Jimmy Lee awakened in his own room, his sheets soaked with sweat, every window open, curtains dancing in the gloom, the air hot, tropical, raindrops splashing on the windowsills.

I’ve died and gone to Tahiti.

He wandered downstairs to get a drink, anything to drown the bad taste of the day in his mouth. The lights flickered briefly then dimmed as he pushed open the double doors to the library and gasped at the scene. Papers of all shapes and sizes flew all around him, swirling in little whirlwinds, many sticking to the bottoms of the windows at the far end of the library before being sucked out into the night. Lightning flashed, trees whipped back and forth, and something smashed against the side of the house. He ignored the maelstrom, approached the bar, and froze. The top of the bar, normally crowded with whiskey and vodka bottles, was empty, and a search behind the bar revealed no bottles, only mixers.

Did I drink them all? I couldn’t have. I’m a fish, but I ain’t no whale.

He shuffled down the hall to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. The Coronas were gone, and mineral water didn’t appeal to him. He reached into his pocket and found his keys. “Road trip,” he said, and he stumbled into the garage as the lights dimmed even more. He got in the Jaguar and turned the key.

Nothing happened.

He turned the key again, and again nothing happened.

He pounded the steering wheel. “What is this shit? All I want is a goddamn six-pack!” He whirled around to look in the back seat, and the scarecrow stared back at him.

He threw open the door and rolled out, screaming and cursing, ending up on his back.

“
Run out of gas, Bro?”

He choked on his next howl and swiveled his head rapidly around the garage. “Who’s that?”

“
Need a ride, Bro?”

He looked at the intercom box beside the door leading to the kitchen. “W
ho are you, goddammit!”

“
You outta gas, Bro?” the crackling voice said. “I’ll give you a ride.”

He turned over and got on all fours. “Shut the hell up!”

“
It’s jes’ me and Michael, Bro. We’s jes’ out cruisin’ around. Why don’t you and your girl join us?”

He crawled to the bottom of the garage door and pushed it out, wind and hail immediately driving him back. He looked out on The Grounds and saw that nearly every tree had fallen over, many across the driveway, most with snake-like roots exposed.

“
C’mon, it’ll be fun, Bro.”

Another feral howl later, Jimmy Lee had risen, lurched to the kitchen door where he smashed the intercom box with his fist, and headed to the library.

“
Thirsty, Bro?” crackled from the intercom in the kitchen.

“
Where you goin’, Bro?” serenaded him down the hall.

He opened and shut the library doors behind him and blundered over priceless chairs and ottomans to the desk. He wrenched open a drawer and snatched a .44.

“
What’s that for, Bro?”

“
For you,
fool!”

He aimed at the intercom box on the wall and fired. The lights dimmed, brightened, and then winked out. A tree branch crashed through the windows behind him, showering him with shards of glass. He dropped and cowered under the desk, listening to the howl of the wind, the drumbeat of the rain, and the pounding of his heart in his ears.

59

Overton raced to Lester’s and called Poole on the radio while the light and wind show raged outside.

“
I’m strapped,” Poole said. “I still got boats out on the lake, traffic jams all over the place, and creeks are rising faster than I’ve ever seen ‘em rise. How ‘bout you?”

“
We’re holding our own,” Overton said. “Most folks have already cleared out and are headed to Calhoun.” He had watched a steady stream of cars maneuvering through Snow while he had tried to call Callie at her home, at Autumn’s house, even at Romelo’s house with no luck.
Maybe she can’t call ... or maybe she’s gone.
“I’ll hang back and check a few houses.”