Redemption Mountain (21 page)

Natty felt herself being lifted and spun, her left shoulder glancing hard off the steering wheel. She opened her eyes to see Buck, his blue jeans rolled down to his knees, working at pulling down his shorts. He put both hands under her small buttocks and pulled her up toward him. The contrition was gone from his voice. “This is what you like, Nat, huh,” he groaned. “This is what keeps you coming back,” he whispered, as he pushed himself deep inside her.

Natty reached over her head with both hands and held on to the frame of the door. She closed her eyes. “Yeah, Buck,” she finally managed to say, “that's what I like.” She bit her lower lip and hid her tears.

*   *   *

O
N THE RIDE
back to Red Bone, Buck prattled on about some new scheme that he was cooking up with Roy Hogan. Natty had heard it all before—the enthusiasm for a half-baked idea that would soon turn to nothing—and remained quiet. She was preoccupied with what had just happened and was trying to rationalize her guilt. It wasn't about the sex. Lord knows, she was feeling randy enough to deserve a good lay from her husband, even if she was pissed at him. No, it was about fantasizing about another man when she was with Buck. That had never happened to her before, and it was a strange, uncomfortable feeling.
Here she was, fantasizing about a man who most likely didn't even remember her name. In a short time he'd be gone, and he sure as shit wouldn't remember much about the time he spent in Red Bone, West Virginia. But Buck would still be here. He'd always be here. And so would she.

Buck slid to a stop in front of Barney's General Store. Natty tucked the ends of her white shirt into her blue jeans and tried to brush back her unruly hair with her fingers. “So, Nat, we're okay,” said Buck, “right? I'll see you at home later on?” Natty shut the door of the truck and gave her husband a thin smile.

“Sure, Buck,” she said, “we're great.” She turned and walked up to the front of the store, hearing the familiar sound of Buck's truck speeding away.

From the vestibule, she could see Cat in the restaurant, seated on a counter stool with an ice cream cone, swinging her legs while she watched Pie and Charlie Burden in a nearby booth. They were playing some kind of game, and she could hear the glee in her son's voice and see the genuine affection Charlie had for Pie.

“Oooh, Charlie almotht get a touchdown.” Pie was on his knees on the bench, squirming about excitedly. Natty moved into the doorway, content to watch for a few moments. They were flicking a packet of sugar back and forth across the table. Pie must have scored. He leaped up, shouting, “Touchdown, Michigan!” Charlie laughed and was giving him a high-five when he saw Natty in the doorway. He smiled and said something to Pie, who wheeled around excitedly.

“Mama, Charlie and me play sugar-bag football. Mama, come thee.”

Cat jumped off her stool and ran over to her mother. Natty stayed where she was. She didn't want to go into the restaurant. She suddenly felt exhausted and didn't want to get into a conversation with Charlie Burden—not right then.

“Come on, Pie, we need to get going. We've already imposed on Mr. Burden enough,” she said.

Charlie stayed seated in the booth as he watched Natty in the doorway. If she wanted to keep her distance, he would respect that. As Pie walked over to her, Charlie noticed how different she looked from the first two times he'd seen her. The baseball cap was gone and her hair was down, falling unevenly to her shoulders. The man's white shirt was now tucked into her blue jeans, the belt pulled tight at her small waist. As she gazed back at Charlie with a tired smile, hands in her pockets, the effect was dramatic. Without any effort or awareness, she could have been a model, posing for a leisure-clothing ad in
Vanity Fair
.

As the children went out through the doorway, Natty lingered for a moment, still looking at Charlie. Finally, she straightened up and mouthed a silent
thank-you.
Charlie nodded and watched her walk out toward the store.

*   *   *

N
ATTY ALMOST DROVE
past the turnoff from Cold Springs Road. It was cool and dark on the smooth new road that ran along the boundary of the OntAmex site. Far up on the hills, the trees reflected the deep orange glow of the setting sun. Natty had to turn on her headlights to follow the road, which had no guardrails or painted lines to navigate by.

Trying to make good time, Natty leaned forward and kept a firm grip on the shimmying steering wheel. As the Accord rounded a bend, the shimmy in the front end suddenly stopped, and Natty felt the steering wheel go slack. The car bucked, listed forward, then screeched along the pavement, out of control. Sparks flew up around the right fender before the car slid to a stop, a few feet from a drainage ditch. Afraid the car might catch fire, Natty quickly turned off the ignition, gathered up her purse and client files, and yanked her equipment bag from the backseat. She put her things down on the road, then went back to inspect.

*   *   *

C
HARLIE BURDEN WAS
about halfway through his second lap around the power plant. He ran another two hundred yards before he heard a car door slam on the road ahead.

“Damn piece of shit car. Fucking cars!”

When Charlie rounded the bend, the air smelled of burned metal and rubber. The old Honda was parked on the shoulder of the road, listing awkwardly to the right. Charlie stopped.

“Hello. Is anyone there?” He walked toward the car and saw a head pop up in front of the hood. He didn't recognize Natty until she spoke.

“That you, Mr. Burden?”

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Oakes. I heard someone, uh, yelling, but I didn't recognize your voice.”

“Sorry—nice mouth, huh?” She laughed. “I didn't know anyone was around.”

“What happened to your car? Smells like something's burning,” Charlie said, as he walked around to the front of the car.

“Think maybe I got a flat tire.”

Charlie leaned out over the drainage ditch and saw that the right front wheel had broken off at the axle and was lodged under the frame of the car. Metal shards were visible at the end of the axle, and brake fluid was leaking into the sand. Charlie couldn't help letting out a laugh when he saw the extent of the damage. Natty Oakes, he was beginning to understand, had a most amusing gift for understatement.

“What's so funny? It's a flat tire, right?” she asked, smiling.

“No, it's a lot worse than that,” Charlie answered. “The whole wheel came off.”

“Aw, man, that doesn't sound good. Shit. I don't need this right now.” A troubled look came over her face, as she realized she would have another bill she couldn't afford.

Charlie wished he hadn't laughed. “You're going to need a tow truck. Is there a garage you can call? We can use the phone in the office,” he said, gesturing toward the power plant. Natty stood in the road, looking at her car, shaking her head in disgust.

“Damn. I got a lot of clients to see tomorrow. Friday's a busy day for me.” She started toward her things lying in the road. “I can call Gus Lowe. He's got a tow truck. If I can use your phone, I'll call home and get a ride.”

Charlie took Natty's equipment bag and slung it over his shoulder while she gathered up her files, and they started off up the road toward the main gate.

“Car's only got two hundred fifty thousand miles on it,” Natty said, with a quick glance back at the Honda. “You'd think you'd get at least three hundred before the damn wheels started falling off.”

Charlie smiled. He enjoyed Natty's sense of humor. Eve Brewster was right—nothing bothered her sister-in-law for too long.

“If you're stuck, you can use my car for a few days,” Charlie offered, looking down at her. He could use Hugo Paxton's Navigator, which was still parked at the condo in Bluefield. “The company has an extra truck,” he added.

The offer didn't seem to register right away. “Huh? I'm sorry. What did you say?”

“I said you could take my car for a few days, if you need to,” Charlie replied.

Natty looked at him curiously. “You'd let me use your car? Why would you do that? You hardly even know me.”

Charlie laughed. “Hey, don't you know, everybody knows everybody in Red Bone?”

Natty smiled at Charlie's imitation of her. “Thanks, anyway, but I couldn't do that. I'll find another car somewhere,” she said.

Charlie let it pass. “Pie came by the plant this afternoon,” he said. “He comes by every day, late in the afternoon.”

“That's all he talks about now. I heard all about the ride you gave him on the tractor.”

“Bulldozer,” Charlie corrected.

“If he's being a pest, I'll tell him to stop,” Natty said earnestly.

Charlie smiled. “No, he's not a pest. Everyone in the office loves it when he comes in. He's funny. He's a great kid. He really is.” Charlie wanted to tell her how much he looked forward to the Pie Man's visits now that he'd gotten to know the boy so well. He wanted to tell her about the vacuum in his life since his own kids left home, but he knew that would sound strange.

They walked a ways down the dark road before Charlie brought up a subject that he'd been thinking about since he first met Pie. “I was wondering how Pie got that name, the Pie Man. Once you get used to it, it seems really natural, but—”

“Still, a pretty stupid name for a kid, I know. It ain't really much of a story,” she said.

“If I'm being too nosy, just…”

Natty thought for a moment before responding. “Truth is, Mr. Burden, you're all Pie talks about these days. You're about the only adult man that's ever given that boy the time of day, including his father. '
Course
it's your business.”

“I was curious.”

“First, it probably helps to know that his real name is Boyd,” Natty said with a chuckle. “How's that for a handle? Makes
Pie Man
sound pretty smooth, don't it?” They both laughed.

“Well, one day when Pie was almost five, I asked Buck to read to him from a big nursery-rhyme book that Pie loved. It was a mistake. Buck was in a shitty mood, but he surprised me and said okay. It was the first time he ever put Pie on his lap and tried to read to him, 'cause Buck, he don't read too well for one thing, and, second, he never paid much attention to Pie from the beginning, 'cause … Well, that's another story.

“Anyway, Buck opens the book to Simple Simon, which Pie knows by heart, 'cause we read it so many times. And Buck starts reading, ‘Simple Simon met a Pie Man,' and he stops and points to the picture, and he says to Pie, ‘That's you, kid, the simpleton, Simple Simon, the retard,' and he keeps saying it, even though Pie don't know what the hell he means. I tell Buck to quit it, and he starts yellin' at me, and I'm yellin' at him, and all of a sudden, Pie jabs his finger at the picture and yells, ‘No, I am the Pie Man, I am the
Pie Man
,' 'til Buck and I shut up. Then Buck pushes him off his lap onto the floor. He stomps out, and Pie just sits there with that stubborn look on his face—I'm sure you've seen it.”

Natty took a deep breath. She'd never told the real story to anyone. She'd always told the sugar-coated version—that Pie really liked the picture in the book and started saying, “I am the Pie Man, I am the Pie Man.” Now she'd told the truth to this near-stranger. Damn, why hadn't she just given Charlie Burden the
storybook
version?

Charlie was waiting for her to continue. “I picked him up and put him on my lap, and he looks at me and says again, ‘I am the Pie Man.' It was strange, because it was like the first time he'd made some kind of decision … the first time he'd shown that he was really thinking about something, you know? It's a weird name and everything, but it was
his
decision, and it was the first sort of intelligent thing he ever said, after the usual baby-talk stuff. So I said to him, ‘Yes, you are the Pie Man,' and that's what he's called himself ever since. That's all
anyone
around here calls him, even in school. I don't think he even
remembers
the name Boyd.” They rounded a bend and could see a light shining on the administration building. In another few minutes, they'd be at the front gate.

“Pretty pathetic story, huh, Mr. Burden? Welcome to West Virginia, right?”

“No,” Charlie answered. “It isn't at all,” he said, trying to sound understanding.

“Listen, Mr. Burden, don't think too poorly about my husband. I probably shouldn't have told you that story, but you've been real special to Pie, and…” Natty gazed up at the hills as she arranged the words in her mind. “This is a hard place to live. I mean, I love it here, and I could never live anywhere else. But
there's a lot of heartache in these mountains
. That's what my grandma Alice always says, and it's true. And I think it's harder for a man. It's not an easy place to make a living, with the coal mining mostly gone. That takes a lot out of a man.…” Her voice faded. “Getting trapped here and not being able to support a family.”

They walked in silence for a few moments, then it was time to change the subject. “Hey, I'm sorry to spoil your run,” said Natty. “It's a nice night for a run, too.”

“That's okay. I already did a lap around the plant. I usually run in the morning, but I had an early meeting.”

“That's when I run,” said Natty.

“That's what Hank said.”

“I go through Old Red Bone about six-thirty and see Hank out on your back porch most days, having his tea. Sometime I'll show you my course. It's about five and a half miles through the woods, on a trail along the south side of Red Bone Mountain.”

“I'd like that,” said Charlie. “How about Monday?”