Where Darkness Dwells (17 page)

He couldn't hear the girl's response.

"Seventeen? That's old enough. I was fifteen when I married. Had Jimmy before I was your age. It's tough, but there's worse things in the world."

"Mrs. Fowler--" a man's voice said. Jacob assumed it was Mr. Bradshaw.

"I don't know what you're trying to get at. I know you must be a nervous wreck with Jimmy missing. I just don't know what you expect from my daughter."

"I just want to know if she thinks Jimmy ran off."

"Ran off?" Mr. Bradshaw asked.

"I have reason to believe Jimmy enlisted in the army."

"You think Louise might know something about this?"

"Why, yes."

"Our children might have courted, Mrs. Fowler, but they're still children. They talked socially, sure, but
with
supervision. I would never allow--"

"Dad?"

"Louise?" Her father sounded shocked at his daughter's interruption.

The girl spoke so softly Jacob could barely hear. "Mrs. Fowler, I… I think he did. He was saying something--the last time he was over for tea--he said he might enlist." Her voice periodically broke with emotion. "He said he wanted to get away from Coal Hollow. Said there was no future in such a small town."

"Fine. Mrs. Fowler, you have your answer. I'm sorry for you and your family. I hope you hear from Jimmy soon. I wouldn't have permitted Louise to associate with him unless I thought he was reputable."

"Okay, Mr. Bradshaw, I'll let you get back to your family." Her voice was strained and on edge. Jacob was surprised she'd given up so easily.

Jacob heard bustling as people rose from their chairs. He scurried back to the truck. Ellie had the driver's side door open and waiting for him. His mom exited the house, Mrs. Bradshaw watching her leave from the open door, her fingers fretting about the lace bodice of her dress.

"Ellie--"

"Don't worry, I won't say nothing." Her lips twisted at a sly angle. "Tell me about it later."

With a sigh, his mom hopped into the cab. "That man doesn't know a thing."

"Mr. Bradshaw?" Jacob asked.

"He doesn't think his daughter could have a sinful thought in her head. He had no idea what I was talking about, and her mother, well, she just stood back and stared at me like I was speaking French."

"Did Louise say anything?"

"No, not really, but she didn't have to open her mouth. I could see it in her face. She's going to have Jimmy's baby. I'm just wondering how long it'll take for her parents to notice."

"And Jimmy?"

"It's just like I suspected. As soon as adulthood stares him in the face, he runs off. Sheriff Bergman's looking into the Peoria enlistment office for me. If he doesn't get back to me soon, I'm going to go out there myself."

Jacob was about to repeat what Ellie had mentioned, but his mom's expression stopped him short. She didn't look happy, but seemed somewhat relieved. He didn't want to hurt her or ruin what little hope she had. There wasn't much sense to Jimmy running off, even if Louise was pregnant. He had gone off somewhere with Ellie's brother, somewhere where they needed to tote around her father's over/under. Now, George was dead, Jimmy was missing. Jacob still had no answers.

5.

By Cooper's second day working for Henry Calder, he was relaxing to the routines of the store. For the most part, he knew where everything was kept and the job itself wasn't demanding. He could help a customer find an item, or track down a mop to clean up a mess. Only sharing his workplace with a corpse prevented him from relaxing completely. Each time he filled a wooden tote with stock to bring upstairs or when he had to cut a hunk of ice, he would make sure the folds of burlap hadn't shifted, that George Banyon was really and surely dead. Every time, at least to his own eyes, the burlap hadn't moved. Even so, it didn't get any easier.

After showing Cooper around the day before, Henry Calder had checked in on Cooper a couple times today, just to see if the place was still running and in one piece. Midmorning he had told him what a nice job he was doing, and then retreated to his study to smoke his pipe. He was surprised how quickly Calder handed over so much responsibility, but he wouldn't question his motives as long as it limited his time in the icehouse. From what Cooper could see, Thea wasn't much of a help to her father--he had seen her only briefly since he started--so Henry probably relished the idea of someone else making sure things ran smoothly.

Cooper was chasing cobwebs near the ceiling with a rag-topped broomstick. The jangling bells above the door made him turn with a start. The sun was hot, intensifying through the newly cleaned windows. A thin sheen of sweat coated his face.

"Hello, Coop." Sheriff Bergman removed his bowler cap. He wiped sweat from his brow. The thin strands of his hair belied his young face.

"Afternoon, Sheriff," Cooper said. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, just in for some browsing. Not much going on in my office. Needed to stretch my legs."

"Need anything, just let me know."

"Sure will."

Bergman lowered his eyes to the nearest shelf. Cooper raised the broomstick, disrupting a spider from its web. He squashed the pest at the seam of the wall and ceiling. The sheriff was two rows over, eyes still trained on whatever was in front of him, not seeing whatever it was.

"You sure I can't help you find anything?"

The sheriff's face strained with indecision. He swiped a damp kerchief across his face and along the back of his neck. "Well, I'm not sure. I've been meaning, well since George…" the sheriff stopped abruptly, as if he had run out of words.

To end an uncomfortable silence, Cooper cleared his throat. "Sheriff?"

"Has Hank showed you how to place catalog orders?"

"I've placed some already. Mostly odds and ends. What can I help you with?"

"George Banyon's going to be buried tomorrow. I know it won't ship near in time, but it's got me to wondering. I don't have my own bible. Coal Hollow doesn't have a rightful preacher of any sort, hasn't in years. Dr. Thompson is the closest thing we got to a holy man, so he does most the talking graveside, but the whole ordeal… it's got me thinking is all."

"How about I show you what's available." Cooper waved Bergman over to the counter near the cash register. A yellowed catalog was open from when he placed a fabric order for Mrs. Trumount just after he opened this morning. He swiveled the catalog on its lazy-susan until it faced him. Bergman walked over, still seeming sheepish as Cooper flipped through the voluminous catalog.

"Seems like you have this place down pat."

"Mr. Calder was kind enough to offer me this position; I'll do my best not to let him down."

"That's honorable enough."

Cooper waited for Bergman to strike. He couldn't shake the feeling the sheriff didn't just come in to order a bible. Flipping too far in the catalog, to an extensive button section, he flipped back until he found the right page. A total of five bibles descending in value.

"Here we go." Cooper swiveled the lazy-susan until the catalog was facing Bergman right side up.

It took the sheriff no more than two seconds to make his selection. "This one. This is it. How long will it take to get it?" He tapped his finger at the bottom, at a cheap pulp bible bound in a faux leather cover. Cooper wondered what nature of tragedy would hasten the sheriff to dole out money for real cowhide and gilt-edged pages.

"We can get that in, let's see, two-three weeks tops."

"Fine. Let's go with that."

Cooper started filling out the order form, and even with his eyes lowered to the order pad, he could sense Bergman had something else on his mind.

"Coop?"

He looked up from the order pad.

Here it comes, he thought. The transformation from a grieving, soul-searching small town sheriff, to spiteful brow-beater with an axe to grind.

"I just wanted you to know, Dr. Thompson's concluded the boy didn't die maliciously, at least not at the hands of another person. After examining the body, Doc thinks an animal done that to his face."

"An animal?"

"He said a boar could've done something like that, could've run him down. Nothing sharp caused the gash, like a blade or nothing like that. Doc says the boy probably ran into a clearing where an animal was protecting its young. He also said a rock's hard edge could've gashed him up pretty good. If something got George spooked enough, he might've fallen while running through the swamp, and with the force of the fall, and if he hit a rock just the right way…"

"So, you've personally come to tell me this?"

"I didn't mean no harm by what I said the other night. I was wrong. I never thought you did anything to that boy. I would've locked you up if I had. It's just that--"

Cooper cut him off with a waved hand. "It's all right Sheriff Bergman. I understand. You know your townsfolk. You didn't know me from Genghis Khan."

"Gingis-Can?"

"Never mind. Here's your receipt. By the way, how's Ellie?"

"She's a tough one. She's with Jane Fowler, which I think is for the best, even if Charles turns up." Cooper thought back to the night he came to Coal Hollow. He'd learned that Jane used to look after Bergman when he was a child, when she was no more than a child herself. Ellie would be in safe hands.

"So her father just up and disappeared?"

"Charles Banyon might as well just up and disappear for good, you ask me. He done nothing for those kids. If he could just put down the bottle for a while, sober up, the man has talents like nobody I seen."

"How's that?" Cooper asked, curious.

"Well, for one," Bergman said, pointing to the storefront window. "That rocker? It came from Charles Banyon's hand. He can't read, don't know numbers to make an accurate measure. It's all hand-tooled, built by sight without a single measurement. The man has a talent."

The sheriff tucked the order receipt inside his shirt pocket and replaced his sweaty bowler to his head. He nodded Cooper his thanks and made for the door.

Before leaving, Bergman said, "Problem with men with talents… seems like they always got equal parts weakness offsetting them using it."

6.

"I can't go," Ellie said quietly, her voice barely carrying in the humid night air. She could have been talking to herself.

Jacob's mom had set the girl up on the sofa in the living room, but during the first night under the Fowler's roof, Ellie had entered Jacob's bedroom, pulling a blanket in with her. As dawn neared, he'd tumbled over her as he got up to get a glass of water. She'd curled up in a ball on the floor, covered in the blanket despite the heat. She'd tried to apologize, but Jacob would have none of it. He drank his water, returned to his bed, and was soon back asleep.

This morning, after Jacob told his mom what had happened, she moved the mattress from Jimmy's bed to his bedroom floor. Jacob hadn't said a word about it. He wasn't crazy about Ellie sleeping in his room, but didn't see any harm in it either, at least for the short term.

"Did you say something?" Jacob asked sleepily. He wasn't tired, but didn't want to let on that he had been awake since he climbed into bed more than an hour earlier. He couldn't get his mind off things. Crazy things. Things that made him wonder about just about everyone he came across. If he didn't know his brother, then who could he know, who could he trust?

"I just can't go. The burial. I can't see them pouring dirt on Georgie."

He didn't know what to say. He couldn't see her face; only a narrow band of moonlight broke through the darkness of the room.

"I'm scared he's gonna be knocking to get out, and they'll still dump dirt on him. Or maybe he can still hear and feel everything, but can't do nothing about it. Can't even move to scratch an itch from his nose."

"Ellie--" He still didn't move, feeling helpless.

"I can't, Jacob. I can't go."

"Ellie, you do what you want," he said, hoping his words weren't a mistake. He paused to collect his thoughts before continuing, "You don't need to be there for George to know you love him. He's in heaven, and in heaven, they have a way of knowing what's in your heart."