" The Thinking Tree "
Find out how important this tree is too Sam Gebben, as you walk along his wild path, through Oak Orchard.
" OAK ORCHARD "
BY S A GIBBINS
Introduction
Sam Gebben was a man of dreams. He followed his dreams throughout his life. Most of the time those dreams became reality.Those realities made him a success, and also a failure. Following your dreams have a way of doing that.But he was a man driven. Failure was just an opportunity to start again. There are no problems, only opportunities, he would often say with a smile. To stop dreaming was to stop living. But sometimes those dreams became nightmares.Sometimes the problems were not just incomprehensible, but unsolvable. Sam never was much of a quitter. He knew if you tried hard enough; you could always figure it out and fix it. But then again, he never lived in Oak Orchard. However way you look at it, you would have to know Sam like I knew him.
We'll call it fiction. After all, no one would believe him when he first told the story. I'm not sure I do either. But one thing I can say. Sam is a different person now. Whatever happened to Sam no one will ever know. Whether it is truth or fiction, who cares. Sam is my best friend, and I've never known him to lie. I'll just leave it at that, and let him tell the story.
"Oak Orchard"
1
"Old Friends"
It was the spring of 1999, and I had been through a lot recently. After a bad divorce, and another nine year lousy relationship with a younger woman, I was long overdue for a change of pace.
My business had slowed up considerably from the boom days of the 80's and early 90's and I had cut my work force down to two employees. The fact that I needed not only a vacation, but perhaps a whole new life, was incentive enough to make me feel antsy.
John Penneli had been a good customer for years, as well as my accountant. He was a good 15 years younger than me, but over the years had not only sent a lot of work my way; he became a good friend also. I was in town, so I thought I'd drop by the office to say Hi.
His mom and dad had started the business, and after graduating college, he became a big part of it. His aggressive nature brought in a lot more customers to the business, as he expanded to managing investment properties for some of the clients.
Westown, Virginia had a large population of professional people,
partly because it was the county seat of Fulton County. So it was no wonder the Penneli family business did so well, quickly becoming one of the largest accounting firms in Westown. John, fresh out of school, knew a lot of the faces in town; going to school with some of them, or meeting them as he worked summers in the office between semesters. Consequently, with their office located within a block of the courthouse, it was nothing to brush arms everyday with people with money.
"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Penneli!"
“Is John in?"
"HI Sam." She greeted me with her usual smile. "Sure John is upstairs. I'll let him know your here. How have you been?"
Mrs. Penneli was a sweetheart, and although she was several years older than me, I always had a eye out for her. She seemed to flirt with everyone she talked to with that soft sexy voice and that big Italian smile. Not to mention the fact that she was very attractive for her age.
“Oh, not too bad Mrs. Penneli. How are you and the boss doing? I was referring to her husband which was a standing joke because everyone knew she was the backbone and driving force behind the goings on there.
"Hey you bum what do you want?" John appeared on the steps with a handful of papers and his sly grin. I am not sure if it was force of habit or he really was working that hard. But he always had something in his hand.
Before I could answer he summoned me to the second floor. And entering his new office he threw off the paperwork, as if he had left the right impression, then shook my hand while he laughed. I was never sure why he laughed exactly, but I soon realized it was just his nature.
"Been surfing lately?" I prompted. I could always get him into a conversation whether busy or not with that question, because John and his best friend Todd were avid surfers who had surfed as far away as New Zealand.
“Hell no" He laughed with a disgusted look.
"Well you’re never working so, I just thought, you know John!"
"Yeah right, this place would fold without me!" He howled.
"Better not let pop hear you say that." I reminded him.
It was my way of digging, but the reality was that although his dad, John Sr., had built the business, John really added to the client base over the past 8 years after school. And besides his mom and dad should have retired long ago, but just as John himself said; his dad had uttered those same words over and over himself; 'this place would fold without me.' Like father,like son, I guess.
"So you busy these days?" Again, John smirked with that sly grin. I knew that was my cue that I had hoped for. It was the real reason for making my appearance that day. John over the years had thrown me more then a bone or two, and at times when I was really in need of work. This was one of those times.
He was a good looking guy and had a great looking, blond haired, wife named Judy. He was a slim 6' 2”, typical Italian complexion, and very athletic and competitive. Judy was Irish - German, and as sweet as cotton-candy. They had been high school sweethearts, and together, made the typical American dream family.
I used to kid John a lot that, if he ever did not treat Judy right, I'd steal her from him. That would always draw laughter, as he would remind me that she would not want an old man like me. But he was just jealous that I had two good arms to hold her with. At least that was what I would shoot back every time the subject would come up again. John had been in a bad car accident during college, that had left him a bit weak in one arm; but you would not know it unless he told you. He couldn't have weighted more than 170 pounds dripping wet and with his naturally curly hair, he looked like something from the 60's. It was sort of a short Afro maybe.
"Well it's a bit slow right now." I replied back to his inquiry. "I'm actually thinking about letting Mike and Pete go and just work by myself"
"Wow that bad?" His concern was genuine.
"Yeah I guess" My reply was intended to elicit some concern. At least enough for maybe a job offer. But reality took over and my real concern appeared on my face by accident. With the cat out of the bag I let go.
“Tell you the truth I'm a bit fed up with things around here. After the divorce I haven't felt right."
"God, that was years ago Sam!"
"Yeah I know, but I guess.." He cut me off in mid sentence.
"You need to get laid!" With that, his short lived concern turned back to laughter.
The truth of the matter was, he knew my limitations, and out of respect did not want to open old wounds. I laughed and was glad too, because it forced me to refrain from a sure 45 minute dissertation on the downside of divorce.
"Typical male answer for everything, huh John?" I smiled with a look of confirmation that we were both on the same page. After all we probably were.
"So what’s up? You know of anyone looking for a good, honest, reliable contractor?" I was hoping that by some magical power, his pockets were lined with waiting jobs.
"Sure! But that leaves you out!" His gaze and grin beamed directly at me waiting for my response.
"Eat me!" We both busted up, and now we could get down to business with the formalities out of the way.
I guess it's a guy thing, although I'm not sure why conversations between two males seem to start out that way. Sort of a pissing contest I guess.
I waited with a look of, well, you going to tell me or not, on my face. John knew that it was time for business.
"You remember Mary who worked here for a few years?"
"Not really." I was not concentrating, with my mind still on the 45 minute dissertation.
"Come on, you do too. You were always hitting on her every time you stopped in here!"
That did jog me back to the present, and as I tried to put a face on the name, he interrupted again.
“I’m talking about Mary, the Italian girl who worked down front with mom!"
"Yeah, I remember her". I answered, still not completely sure, but went along with the conversation to see where it led.
"How has she been doing these days?"
"Well she got divorced from her old man and had some money to invest; so she asked me for some advice. I told her that she should try to buy a second property, since the market was good. So she did, and found one down the beach. Found some fixer upper on in some old vacation town, some old cottage or something. Anyway it needs a lot of work and I thought of you. So what do you think, are you interested?"
"Of course I am interested, where is it at?"
"Somewhere out on the outer barrier islands. I think she said it was in a town called Oak Orchard or something. You could probably stay right there, while you worked on it!"
"Sounds great John, do you have her number?"
"Hell I figured you already had it, you old dog!" The shit eating
grin was about to be followed by laughter depending on my next words. His eyes fixed on mine, waiting for my response.
"Like I said John, Eat my shorts!"
2
"The Job"
It was not that Mary was not good looking or anything like that. She was about middle age, a few extra pounds, but all of them in the right places if you know what I mean. She stood about 5'5, brown hair, brown eyes, and well endowed. Her smile was contagious, and she had a wild streak about her that was a bit attractive, if that is your style. But for me, this had to be all business, and it would have to stay that way, until I at least got paid. Besides mixing business with pleasure is never a good idea.
The drive from Westown to the outer islands was a good three and a half hour trip. So the following Saturday from my initial office visit to see John, Mary and I arranged to drive down to take a look at the job in her new pickup truck. She was a bit of a control freak, which in my ming led to her divorce. At least in my shallow, testosterone fed brain, it seemed like a likely assumption.
Oak Orchard was a sleepy little community that sat right along the water on a back bay, that lies between the barrier islands, and the mainland. Filled with delightful cottages of all shapes and
sizes, and decorated to resemble an artist palette. The people, who
were year round residents, seemed to be a strange mix of implants from other states, as I soon found out. Very few were native to the area.
The majority of the cottages were closed up for the winter months, and the few year round residents often gathered at the only pub in town, the Crows Nest, so I was told. It was your typical shot and beer bar, where everyone knew each other, as well as the happenings in town. That is to say, if you want to find out dirt on someone, it was on a stool at the Crow's Nest. It did not have to be dirt either. It could be who lost there job, who was pregnant and by whom, which cottage got broke into over the winter, and what had been stolen. In other words, as Mary put it, you basically could not sneeze or pass wind without someone knowing about it in this small town. With that in mind I figured the minute I hit town, everyone surely knew already why I was there.
The funny thing was that during the off season you rarely saw anyone walking around let alone driving through this sleepy little hamlet. It was a strange and wonderful place.
As we rolled through town, Mary had about exhausted every avenue of conversation on the way down to Oak Orchard, and started in now with a bit of history.
"This used to be all Indian land. In fact the chief of the Nanticoke Indians lives here, and the cottage I bought is on the tribe's land. No one owns the land that your house is on. It's more a long term lease that can be transferred to your family."
"I once visited Martha's Vineyard, off Cape Cod, and there was an old retreat with cottages much like these, with the same sort of set up." I tried to share the same enthusiasm, although the truth of the matter was, my kidneys were ready to explode, not to mention the nicotine fit, after three and a half hours of riding in her bumpy pickup truck.
We finally turned down a small side street with some kind of Indian name of sorts. In fact all the streets in the village were named that way, some being recognizable, like Hiawatha, Cherokee, and Apache, while others were obscure.
The truck finally pulled to rest in front of a small two story dwelling with fresh vinyl siding, and a porch that had not seen the likes of a paint brush in ages. Without a word I secreted myself out the door and found the nearest bush, not taking any chance that the plumbing inside was out of order.
"Feeling better?" Mary called out, as she fumbled for the right key to unlock the front door.
At this point I did not care if she had the contract to remodel the whole damn town. Three and a half hours happened to be much too long to wait for either necessity. My kidneys were exploding, and my pack of Marlboro calling.
"Almost!" I hollered back, as I lit a cigarette about the time my fly went down.
Once inside the front porch, I passed through another entrance to the main room, a combination living room-dining room with an open kitchen in the back. There was an old couch off one wall, a kitchen with about six cabinets, a stove, and fridge. The back door led to a small yard with a cement pad for lawn chairs. The bathroom located to the right of the kitchen, was adequate, in that it had a tub, toilet, and vanity, with plenty of room to maneuver. In fact, there siting against one wall, were a sorry looking pair of old Whirlpool, washer and dryer.
Off to the right of the living room sat a steep set of stairs going to the second floor and no doubt constructed without any regard to building code.
"Watch you head!" She ordered, as her short stature barely cleared the ceiling. We creep cautiously up the stairs.
"This is what I was telling you about, Sam." She looked around the room, at the mess of boxes containing old notebooks and magazines, discarded clothing, old Christmas ornaments, crab traps, lamps missing shades, you name it. Along with a host of cob webs garnishing every corner. "What do you think?" She inquired positively.
"I'll have to take the old wall board down, and we'll need a dumpster for all this trash." I reached down to examine a copy of Life magazine briefly before returning my gaze to hers.
"Alright then, give me a price for new drywall, and then a price to put trim where it all belongs. And another price for the painting" She said authoritatively as I looked away again in deep thought about
the dimensions of the upstairs.
" Mary, I'll give you a material list along with the labor bid, but you will have to supply the materials." Not making direct eye contact, I tossed the magazine back to its grave.
"What did you want to do here?" I intentionally distracted her from
the materials thing, knowing that she might balk at the idea. Most contractors supply the materials and then charge for it in the bid along with the labor price. Then the deposit covered the materials and some operating expenses. But since there were a lot of unknowns in tearing out walls, I decided to simply tell her what I needed and she could order it by phone and credit card to be delivered here. I had no idea where anything was located and for all I knew it might be miles to a supply house. I did not want to headache of running back and forth looking for materials, in an area I was not familiar with.
The second floor was a hodgepodge of old fiber board nailed up at random, with not much insulation to speak of behind it, from the looks of the few pieces of board missing here and there. The semi-converted attic was more a storage area, but could easily be made into two bedrooms, with a few changes.
"Look why don't you let me have some time here. I'll crunch some numbers, and see what we come up with?"
"OK." "I'm going to run down the street and see a friend. I will be back in an hour, is that alright with?" She glanced at her watch, already in stride toward the steps, as my eyes briefly followed her shape.
"Sure Mary, take your time." I hollered back, as she disappeared around the corner at the bottom of the steps.
It was finally time for some peace and quiet, and another smoke. Mary liked to hear herself talk I believe. Either that, or she was really lonely. At any rate, it was no loss that she left. I scribbled
on my note pad while the smoke drifted up through the still afternoon air. It was unusually still for a community near the water I thought. Still and quiet, almost to the point of being spooky.
I never bought into any of the paranormal crap popular with people today, and although everyone seemed to have their own unique story to tell about ghosts or UFO's or the like, I had none. I was a firm believer that when you’re dead that is the end of the matter. You know; 'dust to dust', and no more thoughts, or existence,just nothing. That may be in part because of my first boss I worked with.
He had a famous line of thought any time religion was even remotely mentioned in a conversation. He'd simply cut you off by saying in a disgusted tone, bullshit! When you’re dead your dead! None of that heaven or hell crap. I have to admit, was an effective conversation stopper. Besides that, there was no need to defend your position anyway, because he was in effect saying, we don't discuss religion around here. He felt the same about politics as well, which made me happy, because I was as dogmatic about politics as he was about religion.
The hour went by too fast as I was lighting up my 5th cigarette since she left, in preparation for the dry run, home.
"Well what do you think it will cost me?" She had not exited the
truck yet, when she queried. I leaned against the doorway with my cigarette dangling out the corner of my mouth, probably looking like a bit of a thug on a street corner. I slowly drew the smoke from my mouth and began.
"I can see a few unknowns first of all, that I can't give you a price on until I open the walls up. But I can give you an extra price of time and materials for doing that at a rate of say, twenty dollars an hour?" I held my breath as the last few words evaporated. It was a testing of the waters so to speak. If she did not like the time and material thing, she really wouldn't like the prices for the whole job for sure. It also would deserve an act of faith on her part, since she would not be present for that inspection, and would have to trust. Trust that I had hoped John had already instilled, by the fact that I was highly recommended.
"Why would that make a difference?" She shot back.
"Well Mary, when I take the old fiber board down, there might be rotted wood that would have to be replaced. Also, if the framing is out of whack I'd have to add some more studs here and there!"
"Why, I don't understand what you mean ,Sam." She now had a look that was hard to read. It was like, somewhere between wanting to
know and disbelief. It is a common reaction actually, because in today’s world, people get ripped off all the time. The less known about the job at hand, the more vulnerable the person is. It was a good question, and an opening to seal the deal with the right reassuring words.
"Well it's been my experience that these older vacation homes were built when there was not any code enforcement. No guidelines of how it should be built. Not only that, they used what ever materials they could get their hands on. Used up old lumber they stored in their garage from another project, or stuff someone had given them. In other words Mary, people used what they had on hand to work with. A lot of times these homes were once somebody's summer project, and a lot of unskilled effort went into building them. So if the framing is not, sixteen inches on center, which is code and the way all
19
construction is today, then the dry wall has nothing to nail to when you get to the ends, and that means you have to add studs or you end up with a lot of extra cuts and waste, which translates into money! I had her with the money part I thought, although I do believe she understood.
"Well that makes sense. Let's get started back, and you can give me the bad news." She smiled as we climbed back into the truck and fired the motor. And a bit of relief came over me knowing that the job was probably mine.
20
3
"Home Sweet Home"
It had been a full two weeks, since taking a look at the job, when finally we agreed on a deposit and start date. She had bartered a trade with staying at the place while doing the work. Which I reluctantly agreed to, although it meant several hundred dollars off the original bid. But taking into account that I could have stayed at some cheap motel at a monthly , off season rate, it still was more convenient to stay right on site. No hassle driving to and from work, nor worries about my tools or truck being tampered with while parked overnight at the motel. Besides that, finding a cheap motel might not have been so cheap after all.
Originally I thought about bringing another man with me, but the thought of having to baby sit someone, not to mention another mouth to feed, turned that idea around. Besides, it was a chance for me to get away and clear my head perhaps. You see, I am a firm believer in change every once and a while. It stimulates you.
21
It was the 5th of March, and although a bit brisk still, an early Spring was well on it's way. The forsythia were in full bloom, tulips and daffodils in full stride; and the first crops of dandelions were gracing the yards. Even the first fishing reports coming in sounded good, with an early migration of bluefish and striped bass hitting the surf, white perch in abundance in the tidal creeks, and the mackerel were well off Long Island Sound.
Rolling down into the town of Oak Orchard was like going back into time in some ways. The town, if you want to call it that, only had
one church, two restaurants, a fire house, a general store, one tackle shop, and one bar, the Crows Nest. The rest of the place was empty. A strange sort of emptiness that seemed to call from every doorway. No people out walking their dogs. No one raking leaves from the myriad of oak trees lining the streets and back yards. The boat yards were like graveyards, with stark white boats lined up like so many headstones, unattended.
I tried to look inconspicuous at first until I realized that no one was out and about the place. How was it then, that they all know each others business, I wondered? Perhaps I should stop by the Crows Nest to announce my arrival and give my first report, I mused.
As I rounded my truck onto Okemo Dr., off Bayview Rd., I could see
22
my vacation spot. Same sorry looking porch attached to that new blue siding. It was like home sweet home.
Mary had bought the place for a mere four thousand dollars. It was a steal for any shape of property, especially at the beach with the way the market was at the time. It's appearance from the outside was not all that bad. Sure it cried for a paint job maybe 10 years ago. And the yard sported a big oil tank on the side of the house, confirming to any passerby that the place indeed had heat.
The cottages were a bit close together, with barely room enough to pull a car between them. And although most of the cottages were one story, her house did not have any more room inside with the second floor attached to it.
It took me all of about fifteen minutes to unload the tools and gear, so the next thing on the list was a trip to the store.
Back out on the highway, beside the gas station, were a row of stores, with a gift shop, barber shop, one hour photo shop, and a cigarette outlet at the end. I thought I should stock up on a few essentials and pulled in. Hey, you never know about those late spring northeaster's, that dump a ton of snow every where, just when you
23
think Winter is over with. Anyway a celebration for a safe trip and a new job was just what the doctor ordered.
After procuring smokes, I recalled seeing a package store on the main highway some five miles back. So with my gear stowed, anticipation of some quiet time and a fresh job to tackle, a celebration was just the thing. It was Saturday afternoon and no work could begin properly without locating the necessities, and getting familiar with my new surroundings.
The people seemed different close to the coast, as you would expect near any resort or coastal area. They didn't take much to tourists, and valued their privacy. Tourists have a way of annoying the locals with all their dumb questions and careless attitudes. This place was no exception either, I assumed.
"What can I do for you sir?" He queried as he stood at attention guarding the register.
"Do you have any wines chilled?" My eyes darting at each isle.
"On the back wall are our coolers." His hands still at his side like a statue.
24
I wanted something ready to go when I got back, so a bottle of chilled wine was just the thing. And a fifth of spirits replete with
mixer for the long haul I reasoned.
“Will that be all?" His monotone and stiffness gave off no welcome. But I had expected that.
"Where's a good place to eat around here?" I halfheartedly asked, knowing full well his answer.
"I couldn't tell you." By now his movement proved his limbs worked well as he typed life into the cash register beside him.
I was not usually perturbed when someone truly didn't seem to know an answer. But something about his demeanor and cold stare had an annoying atmosphere to it. Maybe the fact that he was not from this country angered me.
"You don't know where anything is, do you?" I turned and grabbed the door with that smart remark. Afterward in the truck I recanted my smart remark. The thought occurred to me, that the next package store might be miles away, and if he were to cut me off, I'd really be pissed.
25
"Screw him". I mumbled and laughed as the truck engine roared to life, confirming I could return home.
"Ah yes, home sweet home." I gloated at making the remark without a rebuttal.
The pungent smell of the tidal marsh permeated the air with a soft hint of cooked crabs. Seagulls appeared to follow anything that moved, or even remotely looked like it might offer a meal. This was indicated to me upon reaching home base, as the buggers had bombed my truck with bird crap, while in transit from the store.
I was not through the door more then fifteen minutes, had downed about half the bottle of now semi chilled wine, when I became restless. It was not unusual for me to decide to start working on something sooner then planned. It's my nature I suspect, and while being part Irish, German and Native American may have something to do with it; more then likely it was the fact that I hated wasting time. I don't know how many times I've said that I was taking time off, only to procrastinate and work even harder. That may be why I felt so drained, and taking this job seemed like a good diversion.
Since my divorce some years back, and having not much contact with my children for years, I tried to wrap myself up in my work. Too
26
much free time was not a good thing for me. My mind tends to race with thoughts, and I would worry too much about things I had no control over at all.
( take note of these next few paragraphs and see if they take away from the story. In other words do you think it is unnecessary. I wrote it to show a bit about the character and his disgust toward things etc> What do you think here Jo?)
High school was boring to me, and time and again I frequented the guidance counselor’s office for the standard lecture of why I should apply myself in school. The truth is it all seemed too easy and boring. They tested my IQ once and informed me that I was well above average, even gifted, but I took that as a clever ploy on their part to get my behind in gear.
I had been a straight A student until about the ninth grade, when a good friend of mine talked me into a project for the science fair, at the beginning of the school year. Gladly accepting the task, I spent several months after school and study hall working on a cutting edge project, "The Causes and Effects of Cigarette Smoking on Rats". For the year 1962 it was cutting edge because research was slow at its best, or obscure to the public; and smoking was the in thing to do for most people. People new it wasn't any good for you, but no one knew much, nor cared much about the consequences. So I felt it was a great idea. It challenged my mind, and was a chance to be a part of something besides sports.
The project involved running rats through mazes and timing them. Then exposing them to cigarette smoke and rerunning the tests.
Followed by blood cell counts and carefully documenting the results over a period of months. But my rejection of school and any notion of furthering my education ended after the project folded.
It wasn't that the project ended up a failure. I just got sick for the science fair and my partner, who came up with the idea, went on to the state fair and took top prize, and my name wasn't even mentioned. The anger overwhelmed me to the point that I just didn't care about school anymore, let alone my so called friend.
So here I am no worse for wear, laboring away at home remodeling and puffing away at those nasty cigarettes 30 years later. Go figure!
The house had a bit of a musty smell as one would expect. Years of neglect and being closed up for a good four years didn't help either. The upstairs was about four hundred and fifty, square feet and with a few drinks in place I felt a little demo work was in order. No one appeared to be home around the neighborhood, so taking a walk to find someone to talk to, was a waste of time. So after a quick inspection I began to remove old fiberboard and drywall.
The demo part was the easiest part of the job, since a good claw hammer and a strong back were all the skill needed. The first fruits revealed what I had anticipated behind the walls. It looked as if
kids built the frame work upstairs. If you've ever built a tree fort or any kind of fort when you were a kid playing in the woods, you can understand what I mean. Any wood at hand became building materials, and if you could drive a nail through it, you could build anything. It was bad indeed. Nothing was square or plumb, and the more I took off, the more I saw dollar signs. Mary might not be too happy with this I thought.
It was well after dark, before I decided, enough was enough for one day. Tomorrow will be another day. So I coddled my spirits, the wine long gone, and decided whether the abandoned couch or the floor was a good choice to rest my bones, and make a game plan for the week. The couch had all the hallmarks of something that belonged in the dump, but it's length and large cushions were far more tempting then the floor.
I had been prone for about an hour with no more then an occasional yawn here and there. So I decided to get up and take a walk. It was close to ten by now, and there were a few lights on around the neighborhood to incite me to have a look. Perhaps I'll find some lonely spinster with a large sum of money, and a need for a handsome young career man as myself. Stupid thoughts rattled back and forth in my head as I surveyed the dark, side streets close to the house. The walk was short lived.
4
" Nightmares "
The materials had arrived at 8 am sharp on Wednesday. Mary had been informed about the framing changes and was not too concerned with the extra amount of time and money involved, that I ball parked over the phone. With everything unloaded into the living room area, I set up the saw on the second floor and started the re-framing chores.
It was late into the afternoon and I had decided to take a late lunch break. Outside on the patio seemed like a good place to relax.
The March air had warmed a bit since my cool, 5 am awakening. An early spring was everywhere, revealed by the local songbirds. I chocked down my sandwich and decided an early happy hour, might be a good thing. In the kitchen I found the bottle waiting for me where I had left it the night before. Working for myself did have some advantages, I thought, as I poured the first one of the day. Besides I had already put in over eight hours of hard work. It was my nature I suppose, to work hard when I worked alone, and it was nothing for me to put in ten to twelve hour days. This was not to be one of those days though! I always had that advantage, by working alone, to stop anytime I felt like it, and take happy hour. But I never mixed the two together. I either worked for hours then took a drink when I had enough, or drank and accomplished nothing. There were days like that when I first got divorced, but it was a downhill slide I had no desire to continue riding. I firmly believe that the two don't mix. But in my mind, when your winding down at the end of the day, then it's time for happy hour. Mind you it was not a daily thing either as some have the custom.
The framing changes had gone smooth and it was about time to begin to hang the drywall.
"In the morning I'll start in fresh." I mumbled to myself as I walked around the upstairs, drink in hand, admiring the progress.
The evening was quiet, maybe a bit too quiet. The radio no longer had interested me, since the now familiar country songs that came in on the only station available, were getting too repetitive and boring. The television set that was left in the house had long since seen its hay day, and with out a proper antenna, the hopes of retrieving even a bit of news broadcast were fleeting.
"Thank God for TV dinners!"
I had finished a chicken dinner and the last of the bottle of spirits when the thought occurred to me to return to package store for a second time this week. The trip took little time.
Upon returning, I had noticed that things in the neighborhood had not changed. It was perhaps even a bit quieter then before. As I turned into Okemo Dr., I noticed a rather large tree near the water. Parking the truck, I walked back up the street and crossed the road, that led along the waterfront; for a closer inspection of the behemoth. The mighty oak had no doubt been there since time began; or at least in my feeble mind it seemed big enough. The base was a good 18 feet around and it had one big root that came up at the base and shot out across the ground some fifteen to eighteen feet long. It had the appearance of a leg of sorts. Perhaps it was the tree's way of holding on to the ground, in the face of the countless storms it no doubt saw. It was an awesome sight. I sat down upon the root and thought.
"How many lovers and loners has this tree's root seen." I wondered.
It almost seemed magical in appearance. The mighty oak had no doubt been here when the settling of this place occurred. May be the tree stood here before the first settlers arrived. It was massive enough to be that old. I wrapped my arms around as far as they would go. But I would have needed about three or four more arms lengths, to complete my bear hug around it. I had remembered my grandfather telling us about our ancestors and how my great grandfather married an Indian woman. He told us of stories about the Grandfather Tree. It was a source of strength, and to hug the tree gave you that strength also.
The more I looked the tree over, I couldn't help think that it was more of a thinking tree. A place where people would have come to sit, and thought long and hard about their troubles. I sat on the root and decided it was a place that I might want to come later to sit and think. The tree seemed to have some power that draw me in.
"OK now Sam, get a grip here. People might see you here and you'll be the next discussion at the Crow's Nest!" I chuckled to myself, with that thought, and popped off the root to start back down the street, to the house. Finding myself looking back occasionally at that damn tree, as if I shouldn't have left it so soon.
It was around ten or so, when I decided that I had read enough and was getting tired. Sleeping on the couch wasn't as bad as it might seem, and the fact that my sense of smell had long ago left me, it prevented any foul odors from keeping me awake. I needed a good night sleep, because hanging the drywall by myself was no picnic, even with the fact that the ceiling was only six and a half feet high.
I awoke sometime later with a very uneasy feeling. Something didn't seem right. But I found that I couldn’t move or get up. It seemed as if I was paralyzed to some extent. I wasn’t even sure that I was even awake. Then I heard the voice.
"I have waited long for you to have come here, my son. It was foretold long ago to me in a dream, that you would come."
"Who is that?" I couldn’t speak, but in my mind, the words formed. I was close to terror at this point, not sure if I had been dreaming or what. The voice of the old man, seemed to penetrate me. His words were soft spoken but with depth.
"My eyes are open, my eyes are open, and I’m awake now!" I struggled to speak and move.
"Do not be afraid. This is meant to be" The voice reassured me.
Terror now gripped me, as I struggled to move even more so.
"I know I'm awake." I told myself, as the objects in the room came into focus, in the dim light. I could now move my head enough to recognize that I was no longer asleep and that something terrible was happening to me. I thought that I drank too much, or years of painting and working with solvents had done something, to me. Maybe I was having a stoke! The fact was, here I was lying on the couch and couldn't move at all. On top of that I am hearing voices. Or was it all in my head? I still struggled some more to move.
"Do not let your thoughts betray you my son. You are not asleep nor are you awake. It is a dream state that you are in. I am speaking to you from the other side, my son!"
"OK, this is not funny now!" Still in disbelief I struggled. In my mind I struggled to bring back the reality I knew. Bring back movement. Anything at all that would relieve the terror gripping me at this point. The voices are not real I told myself over and over.
"Your feelings do not betray you my son. Reach out in your mind and let go of the fear. Reach out and listen to my words. Words I have waited long, to tell you."
The room around me seemed surreal, in a way that it appeared that it was made of glass. Everything seemed crystalline. I could not move nor cry out. The feeling was paralyzing as I began to wonder if the voice was real.
"Give me a sign that this is real." I thought hard, as my lips tried in desperation to form words.
"Do you see the dream catcher on the wall?" The voice spoke as if hearing my though, as my eyes looked left then right, until I caught sight of an old dream catcher, left hanging on the wall by the last tenants. Eyes fixed upon it, I answered.
"I see it." Half wondering if this was really happening and thinking to myself; am I causing this to happen or what? And why am I looking for an object that I know is already there? It had caught my eye the first day I had arrived.
"It is there to catch the bad dreams of children. And to keep the bad spirits away from them. I am giving this sign to you, for which you will know that it is the spirits who call on you are not bad spirits, but good ones." His voice was frighteningly comforting.
“Further, so you will know, I will send the crows to follow you.
When you awake from your dream state you will remember all that I have spoken, and calm will cover you like a sacred blanket. When you leave this place, the crows will wait for you, and call out to you, so that you will know my words are true. Then we will speak again. Then you will know the meaning of all this my son!" His voice trailed off into the still night air, as I fell back into a deep sleep.
It seemed like hours had passed, and I had no concept of time what so ever. But in other ways, it seemed like only minutes had passed. My eyes opened slowly in hopes that some familiar surroundings would remove the nightmare; and it would all be just that, a bad dream. I thought that since I had to open my eyes, then I must have been asleep the whole time and nothing really happened. I pulled myself up off the couch, turned and looked directly at the dream catcher on the wall. A strange feeling covered me. It was like a chill and at the same time a warm feeling in the air. It circled me, swirling gently. I felt a deep calm and relief.
“Boy that was one hell of a dream." I shook off the feelings about the dream catcher. But something was puzzling.
“I never remember my dreams." I spoke out loud. Something else I did not often do either.
I remembered the whole conversation as if it were real, as I looked around the room trying desperately to find something that was not there.
The sun began to come up in the early morning mist that rolled in off the bay. The air was still and there were no sounds as I approached the front door. I hesitated for a split second as my hand hit the knob. I was searching for something in my mind. Yes, searching what was spoken to me in my dreams. As I stepped out onto the front steps, it all came rushing back onto me, like a rouge wave that suddenly appears, then wells up, to crest and cover you, almost knocking you down.
"Oh God this can not be happening!" In shock I took one more step with the knob still tightly grasped in my left hand. My mouth now was fully agape, and eyes as big as silver dollars. On both side mirrors of my truck they stood at attention, waiting and watching.
"Caw, Caw, Caw, Caw." I froze at their sight, but this time, not in fear. It was with awe and shear amazement. I eased back into the house never taking my eyes off them. Closing the door slowly behind, I drew the curtain to the side with my other hand. They seemed to follow my every move.
"Caw Caw." They ruffled their feathers, stretched a bit and resettled onto the mirrors again as if to say, he'll be back.
I sat on the couch wanting a drink, looking at the dream-catcher and once again, froze in place. This time it was no dream state. No altered state. Reality set in. The voice I heard was real. The crows were real. I saw them with my own eyes. I heard them with my own ears. Even if I didn't, I dared not get back up to find out. I had to sort this out. There must be an answer to all this. This can't be happening to me.
It was perhaps another good hour that had gone by. The sun rose higher and though I was still riveted to the couch and bewildered, I had a sense of calm, almost relaxing.
"I'm going out side." I thought, as I determined that a confrontation of sorts had to take place, and right now. I grabbed the door with a bit of defiance, assured that I was not afraid.
"Bring on the damn crows." I bellowed, as I stepped out the door, eyes fixed on the truck.
I sighed a bit of relief as I walked toward the truck. Then, I walked further out to the street. Looking up and down the street, and saw nothing. My feelings of superiority and the ability to figure things out coursed back into my veins.
"What the hell were you thinking, Sam?" Half smiling I chuckled to myself as I turned back toward the house. My confidence was short lived.
"Caw, Caw, Caw, Caw, Caw, Caw, Caw." They were everywhere,the roof, the trees; watching, waiting for me. The calls ended abruptly. Then they sat almost motionless, waiting to see where I would go, or do next.
"CAW, CAW, CAW." I shot back in defiance. They were unmoved by my display. I laughed uneasily and went back into the house.
" Damn Crows!!"
5
" Reddog "
The drywall seemed to go unusually well. There were no extra cuts or waste to speak of. Boy that is not like me, I thought. Besides, now I'll end up with left over drywall to return.
Every once and a while I would glance out the window to see if my new companions were still there. It had been two days and no more voices occurred to disturb my sleep. So a sense of disbelief returned, assuring myself that it was just a coincidence; the crows that is. After all, the town's only bar was named the Crows Nest. Must be a lot of damn crows every where, I thought. At least that’s what I hoped.
It was late in the afternoon when I decided to call it a day. A quick shower and a short haul down to the local watering hole seemed like a good idea. I had not made my appearance yet, so now was as good a time as any. Meet the locals on their turf, so to speak. Perhaps strike up a conversation, and drum up some more work. A person could get used to this place. It was the peace and quiet though, not the crows.
Not only was Oak Orchard a quiet town, but clean also. No visible trash cans anywhere, and the streets looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell setting. The absence of people in the off months made for an even calmer feel. Streets lined with large oaks, providing plenty of shade from the hot summers sun, and protection from the cold winds blown off the Atlantic Ocean in the winter months. It overlooked a large back bay, where locals gathered crabs and clams in good amounts during the season. The cottages were built for the most part, around the turn of the century, with a few more modern looking homes on the outskirts of town. It was not really a town per say, in that it was never dedicated as towns are, so in effect, the people themselves were the mayor, the sheriff, the police, the building inspectors, the town council, and so on. So as you would guess, the town hall was none other then the Crows Nest. Not in any organized fashion mind you, but generally speaking, in that they knew everything going on in the community. It was your basic one stop shop for gossip. And if you couldn’t make a decision on a matter, all one needed to do, was have a drink at the bar, spill your guts, and let the rest take its natural course. Sit back and listen, while everyone put their two cents into the matter. Afterward, the whole matter carefully weighted by everyone, you had your answer. At least you knew if your idea was acceptable to the majority.
The road leading to the town hall followed the contour of the bay; winding around each little cove, over a small bridge that crossed a tidal creek, past a pasture with an Appaloosa horse milling around a shade tree, another boat graveyard, and finally the Crows Nest. It wasn't clearly marked by any sign, but rather, by the fact that the missing cars from the driveways back down the road, were all here.
One neon sign offered a clue to the contents within the establishment. The Budweiser sign in the window was enough to draw my truck into the gravel parking lot, and grind to a halt. The dust storm and brief slide into the gravel parking lot, drew attention immediately to my arrival from those inside the haunt. The front door opened slowly to allow onlookers to check out the commotion, as the music seeped back out to my ears outside, as I disembarked my truck. I offered a brief smile, as if to say, sorry for the commotion, but before eye contact was made, the crew slipped back inside. I stopped myself for a brief second or two to wonder.
"Do you really want to do this Sam? As I hesitated, something else immediately came into focus.
Directly above my line of sight of the front entrance, sat a familiar sight. Perched above on the roof line, were another whole set of onlookers to my arrival. I should have guessed it, but the drive along the bay leading up here, temporary took my mind to another place. The smells of salt marsh, and diving gulls were mesmerizing. Looking out across the water and seeing the fishing boats bobbing about, brought back memories of past fishing trips over the years. Clouds drifting by in all shapes and sizes, as herons were working the flats for small fry to eat. But the guests waiting on the roof top were a harsh reminder of where I really was.
As I cranked down on the door handle of the truck, one of the roof crew let out a caw, as if to say a casual hello, and 'yes we are all here waiting on you, sir.' At that point the unexpected greeting inside was beginning to look more appealing then the familiar crowd on the roof. So with that in mind, I made my concern, what awaited me on the inside.
“What will it be?" A friendly voice asked as I tried to adjust my eyes to the now dark room.
"Give me a beer." I strained to focus on the voice.
“And don't go too far either, because the first one won't put the fire out quick enough." I said with a half smile. But the silence that followed told me that this was not going to be an easy crowd.
"Thank you." I fumbled with the money avoiding direct eye contact with the bar keep.
Upon his retreat to the register I mustered enough to have a quick look around the room. Funny how every set of eyeballs seems to focus on you, when you enter a strange place. These inhabitants were no exception.
"Hey, how’s it going?" I shot a nod in the direction of the closest group gathered around the pool table directly to my left. I believe that even if I crawled in on hands and knees, whispered my order to the keep; somehow over the noise of the jukebox, and the crowd, I still would not have escaped notice. After all, I didn't exactly arrive unnoticed.
The smells of spilled beer, stale ashtrays, smoke filled atmospheres, and a drone of country music, intermixed with idle chatter, and an occasional loud laugh; made me feel a little more at ease. And with the two quick beers in succession downed, and a third on the way, I began to feel like one of the boys. Well, sort of.
"You’re not from around here." It was more of a statement then a question, so my response took a little thought. Again I could feel the eyeballs returning to the back of my neck, awaiting my reply.
"How did you guess?" I finally drew a smile, as the keep turned to replace the dried glass back on the rack, and just as quick, returned with his next statement.
"Doing a little work down the way?" It sounded more like a question or perhaps a quiz, to see if honesty was one of my virtues.
“Yeah, a little bit of work." I hid behind my next swallow trying to figure if the whole bar would gather for the inquiry. I furthered some more into the mix.
“It’s a little remodeling job for a friend." I glanced to the left again to confirm the eyeball thing. They looked away back to their game of pool. My unsteadiness waned as the ice was broke, and the few beers took some effect. I regrouped from my semi-slouched posture at the bar, to retrieve and finish my third beer, then push it forward again.
"When you get a chance I have another." His hand surrounded the glass before my words settled in the air.
"Going to be here long?" His eyes making full contact as he set the fresh grog in front of me with a smile. It was a test, a test of wills. You know, the local boys thing, a little intimidation, but not enough to drive the customer away. Down home welcome I guess.
"Not sure. How's the fishing around here." I stood my ground and changed the subject. With that everything went back to normal. Same back ground drone of noise. The bartender retreated to fill another glass at the other end of the bar and regroup with the troops.
"Hey what’s with all the damn crows around here?" I raised my voice for the benefit of the hearing aid section off to the side, knowing full well I still had their attention. The keeper made his return with the answer.
"What crows?" He smirked.
The others offered support with a few chuckles as I expected, with the bartenders smart come back.
I couldn't figure out if he was serious, or they were all just making fun of the newcomer. I ventured a follow up question.
"You haven't noticed all the crows on your roof?" I ventured.
"The only crows we have, are these old crows in here." He looked directly at another set of locals in another corner, and again the laughter. A little relief came over me as the attention was temporarily moved in another direction. It was short lived.
"They are called sea gulls around these parts, buddy." The room exploded as if everyone was waiting for that detonation. I laughed too acknowledging that it was a dumb question, even if I were serious.
The bar opened to the light again as my eyes refocused on the new arrival. His frame filled the doorway and his presence brought a quiet to the bar, long hair flowing in the slight breeze that rushed past him in the doorway. He was no stranger to them.
"What you going to have Reddog?" Muttered the barkeep, as he stood at attention immediately to my right.
"You know what I drink!" His annoyance apparent, his crackly voice matched his face, aged by the sun.
I sensed that he might be of some importance, this strange looking giant. The name was beyond a doubt appropriate. His red face and bark like a dog were ever so present. He didn't seem much like the friendly type, and some moved away slowly, as he sat down on the stool not far from me. Not the sort of person one would want to mess with for sure. But somehow I felt suddenly emboldened.
"Take it out of here." I offered, hoping my new friend would send a signal to the others cronies in the bar, that even though I was a newcomer, I certainly was no pushover nor easily intimidated. I had to admit though, I never really met anyone quite like him.
"Out of here?" The bartender eyed me as he queried. There was a look that I could not read. Something in his eyes was saying something. It was eerie. Almost like he was saying, you might not want to do this.
"Sure" I glanced to see if Reddog had noticed my gesture, as the keep took the money. Reddog stared into the glass for a moment before venturing a nod without looking my way.
"You see those damn crows outside on the roof, when you came in?" The bar went silent.
"Give it a rest" The bar keep seemed perturbed, as his eyes shot back and forth between the locals, myself, and Reddog.
Something was askew here! I couldn't put my finger on it. His comment drew my stare, as he turned back to the register again. He paused ever so slightly again to make eye contact. I felt like I was being controlled here, but why? Who the hell is he to tell me what to say or do?
"I'll sit here all night I though; and buy Reddog all the drinks I want, Pal." The words stopped in the nick of time, from being released from my voice box.
I sat silent, as I wondered who this massive man was, and why everyone seemed to shift gears in action all of a sudden. There was no doubt that there was something about him that bothered these people. He didn't seem well liked. And quiet was not the word for it. His face reflected hard times; troubles perhaps. His demeanor was one of a tough calloused person, not wanting attention but knowing full well that he could easily get what he wanted. His quietness had a bit of mystery to it. Not shyness just real quiet. He made no eye contact with anyone, while the others ventured only careful glances his way. Perhaps they were afraid of him. He was an out cast I determined, but why? Was it because he was Native American, I assumed as his features resembled someone out of a history book on the Plains Indians. Had he done something in this town? The more I thought, the more I wanted to strike up a conversation with this stranger.
He set the glass back in place for a refill, with no commands given. The bartender slowly approached him obediently.
"Another?" Reddog mumbled something as the barkeep refilled the glass.
"I got it" Reddog looked my way for a second then down again, as I shoved the money toward the edge of the bar.
"I have money to pay. Keep it." He seemed angry as if I had done something wrong. You could here a pin drop at this point.
"No problem big guy, just trying to be friendly." He looked back again, studying me, as if he heard something he had never heard before.
"You’re not from around here, are you?" He already knew the answer, and it was deja vu all over again. I felt a bit of tension leave, as it seemed I was gaining some ground.
"How did you guess? I smiled and picked up the grog.
“I’ve never seen ya here before." His tone softened a tad. He paused for a moment, then furthered.
"Them crows, they are here for you." His response stopped me dead in thought as I tried to sort it out. He never looked up from his glass, as the laughter returned. They were laughing at him now.
"Why did you say that?" I tried to not let any emotion show but in reality I was getting concerned. He sneered at the pool crowd and they backed off, slowly. Then his gaze met mine again. This time he looked right through me.
"You tell me.” He eyed me as if I had the answer. A sick feeling began to move my stomach in ways I never felt. In an instance I felt like leaving, but it was too real for me to just leave. I needed to know what this stranger knew.
"You saw them two didn't you?" Half-hardhearted wishing he would say he didn't. "What do the crows mean?" My question was as genuine as I could get. A few snickers in the corner told me I had their attention still.
"You wouldn't understand white man." A faint grin appeared as he drew some local support; eyes fixed to his drink, hands clasped around firmly. It was as if he was bonding with them, in a strange way. But the snickers subsided, and his half smile left. He was jokingly serious.
I bought another round as I moved one stool closer. Now within quiet earshot, I could talk without being heard. He glared for a second and returned his gaze to the suds giving silent approval.
"You’re Native American aren't you?" I knew it was a stupid opening even before my vocal chords took over.
"Sorry." I regrouped.
"Don't be; I'm not." Toying with the glass, searching for something.
"Nanticoke" There was a lack of pride in his words as they trailed off.
"Your part Indian too huh?" He sounded sincere, but I cautiously waited to answer. "Ha, everyone wants to be part Indian." It wasn't sincere as the tone of his voice changed.
I let the silence build before I spoke again.
"Blackfoot. On my Fathers side of the family there were Blackfoot."
He could sense my pride and the truth in my voice. He eyed me up and down, as if looking for some outward evidence. Silently he looked through me. It was as if he was looking deep inside at something. A chill went down my neck. A few moments later he spoke to me with intent.
"They are here to take the spirits to rest." He caught me off guard with that response.
"What’s that?" I thought I was hearing things. "The crows?" I got my mind back on track. "I thought you said they were here for me? How do you know that?" I pushed him for an answer now.
He waited as if searching for words, then looked directly at me and around the room again to see who was eavesdropping. He knew something, and I had to know what it was, and what the hell was going on in this town full of crows.
Reddog rose from his perch and headed for the door, stopped for a brief second, looked at the ground as if the right words appeared on the floor boards covered with sawdust and peanut shells, looked back at my perch, and spoke assuredly.
"We shall speak of this again."
Before I could continue my inquest, he was gone. I hurried to the doorway. No dust trial from the parking lot to indicate a hasty exit. No sign of anyone walking in either direction. He just up and seemingly vanished. I returned to retrieve my money on the bar to return home.
"What's the matter? Can't seem to find where he went?" The bartender teetered on a revelation. He approached slowly and closed in enough to escape earshot.
"Some around here think he is what the Indians call, a 'shape shifter."
"What the hell is that?" My annoyance was about to become public, as his words sunk in. I knew full well what a shape shifters were.
"Look here friend, he began, I realize you haven't exactly had a warm welcome here. And these people aren't as easy to talk about some things that happen around here either."
"I'm Ray." He extended a paw with a friendly, excepting, look.
"I hear it all in here. I have to, it's my job." His honesty now read like a picture of Abe Lincoln.
"All I am trying to say is watch what you say and ask, and who you talk to around here!"
I paused for a second, thought long and hard, then answered with the appropriate response given the circumstance.
"Give me a damn shot!" With that we both laughed. He walked to the liquor case, then brought two shot glasses and the bottle back.
“You know Ray, this is one weird ass town you got here!" The drink was perfect timing, because I was on the verge of total confusion. So a break was the answer. The only answer I wanted right now.
Ray poured two doubles, raised his glass for a toast; and as his glass tapped mine, he spoke.
"You don't know the half of it friend!"
6
"Nakima"
I have to admit I was a bit unnerved, with my visit to the Crows Nest, but all in all, at least I got to meet the tribe. The locals were locals, if you know what I mean. After all, I hadn't expected much more than their meager reception. I was the stranger to town, a stranger in more ways then one.
Things were still was a bit puzzling the next day, as I started to hang the drywall on the second floor. It had just started to become light around six, enough to see what I was doing. I couldn't get it out of my mind though. First it was the damn crows, now this big Indian.
The more I thought, the more I couldn't wait to get back there, and talk to Reddog some more. He did say the crows were here for me. I had always thought that the crow symbolized impending doom or death, but this was different in some way. I could sense it. Feel it. It was odd, very odd indeed.
As the afternoon wore on, I had worked non stop through lunch. It was about two thirty in the afternoon now, when I stopped for a quick break. The hanging was getting more and more frustrating by the minute. I had more cuts and waste then normal, as my mind wandered while I worked.
"What's going to happen around this damn place next;" was all I could think about. I began to entertain the thought that may be I wanted the voice in my head to return.
"You’re loosing it Sam." I mumbled to myself and cursed, every time I fouled something else up.
I had only accomplished about half of what I wanted to get done, when I finally decided to take a break from it all, and grab a bite to eat. I settled onto my musty, makeshift bed, and recapped the days work in my mind, while thinking about the Crows Nest and my new acquaintance there.
“The hell with all this! Get it done.” I told myself, as I pulled off the couch with new found determination, buried the dishes in the sink with new found vigor, then headed back upstairs to the job at hand. I decided to concentrate on the job and forget about Oak Orchard for a while.
The rest of the afternoon went by quickly, as I tried to make up for lost time. After my late lunch, I was more pissed at the fact that I had not accomplished much, and had allowed myself to be so distracted. Around six thirty, I began to finally run out of steam, but the upshot was that I had nearly finished the bedroom without much more waste. I grabbed the left over pieces of drywall and sailed them out the back window into a neat pile below, to toss into the dumpster that I had ordered earlier in the week.
By seven PM I had cleaned up and ate a couple of TV dinners to satisfy my growling stomach. Then proceeded to pour a tall drink as a reward for digging myself out of the whole I created that morning. With thoughts of the crows, Indians, bar, and locals far removed I eased back into the couch. It swallowed me whole. I needed a good night sleep.
"I am with you." A soft sounding voice called. "It is time my son."
I strained to something very familiar in my head.
"I am here." I found myself talking, or feeling like I were talking. But talking to who? A dream?
My first thoughts were a rude awakening of sorts. Oh crap is all I could think as my eyes met crystalline surrounding once more. I searched the room, glued fast in position on the couch.
"Where are you?" My mind inquired as if I would see someone who spoke. It was the dream state again. And it was real.
"I am with you my son. You have seen them."
I knew what the voice was talking about instantly. I replied. "I have. Why are they after me?" I wanted some answers, as now, a feeling of comfort came over me in this odd state of mind and body.
"They are nothing but a sign for you, a reminder. You have things to do." The voice took on a person now in my mind.
"Who are you and why is this happening." I spoke in my mind, as I tried in vain once more to rise from the couch and awake from this trance.
"I am Nakima, father of Running Fox and Little Bear." He continued. "We are of the Wind Clan of the Nanticoke. Long ago, in a dream I saw you. I have waited long, for the time when you were to arrive."
"Why? What am I here for?" I spoke with sincerity.
"You are here to release the spirits of my sons." With those words I paused and tried very hard to absorb what he had just said.
"I don't understand." I wanted to know what he was referring to, as a bit of fear returned. This could not be real or was it? I wanted answers.
"A Long ago, my two sons were murdered. There lives ended before they started. My people looked long for the one who did this. Darkness came upon our people for we knew it was one among us. One left the tribe and hid away. We all knew it was this one, who took my two sons lives. His name was Shining Sun of the Wolf Clan. He fled knowing that his life must end to release their spirits. A curse was on him and his offspring, until payment for what he had done was satisfied."
"And that is why I'm here?" For the life of me I couldn't fathom why or what it had to do with me.
"Why me, I am not Indian. And I don't know anything about this thing you want me to do, whatever it is." I tried to sound as if he had made a mistake. But the truth was, I wanted no parts of this.
"You are part Blackfoot, a son of the Bear Clan. It is in your blood. Reach inside yourself and find it. You know it is true."
His words made me shutter. And fear returned as I began to think I am in some way related, and going to die here. I could feel something. The room began to change and I saw things, places that were not here. Far away places. I saw my grandfather with his Blackfoot wife standing in a field. I knew it was him from pictures my father had shown me years long ago, when I was a boy and living in Oklahoma. I had seen them and heard stories about our family. But nothing about what was being said to me now. I became fearful to ask another question.
"Do not be afraid, it is not for you to repay but to help my sons." The father's calm voice replied.
“He had read my thoughts! But how could that be? Why couldn't it be? Hell anything might be real or unreal or whatever,” I thought.
I let my mind drift, not wanting to hear more. But something strange was happening to me inside, coursing through my veins. I could feel it. “It was in my blood! But why me! What am I supposed to do?” My mind raced with these thoughts, as I struggled to awake from the nightmare.
"Soon you will know." The voice called out. But first, you will have to walk through the fire before you feel the water." Again the Father's voice trailed off into the night.
The sun had risen far enough for me to realize that I had over slept. For a moment I laid there still, not really sure if it was still a dream or not. It had felt as if I had just settled down to go to bed, minutes ago. I was dog tired, and it felt as if I had been walking for hours, traveling somewhere. My legs even hurt. But I was here on this couch all night wasn't I? Again my thoughts raced. Then I closed my eyes again hoping the feelings would all just go away.
“Enough, with the voices in my head,and the crows also. Enough with the guy in the bar, and the two boys. Indians everywhere. Crows, voices, "what the hell is next?"
With those thoughts, I stood up and pulled on my pants,talking to myself out loud now, in defiance. I wanted the job to end and just go the hell back home. I began to feel very annoyed with the whole thing. As I glanced around the room trying in vain to locate a cigarette I caught sight of the clock.
"Shit! That can't be right!" It was damn near eight AM by now and I had wasted several good hours already. I soon forgot about the soreness in my legs, and tired, as irritation took over. I found the pack on the kitchen counter, with just one smoke left in it.
“Damn it, I don't need all this crap in my life right now!” I grumbled, as I snatched the keys off the counter, along with my wallet and headed for the door.
"Get the hell away from me, you bastards!" The crows scattered off the truck as I slammed the front door tight behind me. At this point I didn't care about what the neighbors might think about me nor my outburst. After all, they didn't like strangers in their town any more then I liked these damn crows.
"I'll cook your ass if I catch ya!" With that last statement, I laughed at the apparent insanity of the whole thing, and I looked around to see if I had drawn any attention. I was in luck as it appeared that no one was out and about, doing chores, raking leaves, etc. It seemed a bit eerie that there were not a soul around to speak of. I looked once again to make sure, as I jumped into the truck and fired life back into it.
The trip up to the store and back, set new speed records, as the irritation slowly dissipated. In no time at all, I was back at the helm and measuring up the next room for fresh cuts to hang. I had to shake these feelings and distractions, and try get some work done today. By the afternoon I had gained enough ground back and broke for a bite around 3. In the kitchen I had glanced out the window and for a brief moment, I had thought I had seen someone or something in the back yard. Perhaps it was a some local boy running through the yard. I took a second look back out the window, but saw nothing. Any way the ham and cheese sandwich, layered to about the size of two large sandwiches, took over my immediate attention. It was certainly not the taste for in the five minutes it took to make it, I inhaled it only in about a minute flat minute and reached for the bread and mayo to make a second one. Two would do the trick, to fill the gaps in my growling stomach. It probably was not the healthiest way to eat , but with my way of thinking, eating was just one of those necessary things that needed to be accomplished, and it seemed like a waste of time to sit around the table idle, waiting for my food to settle in and make me tired.
The back screen door could have used a bit of W-D 40 to clear its throat. The screech of rusted hinges was enough to make your teeth gnash. I stepped out into the back yard to have a look. Nothing out of the ordinary, but a couple of rusty old lawn chairs, a few large Oak trees complete with piles of leaves in every conceivable nook and cranny of the yard. There were old crab traps, that no doubt held many clawed prisoners on death row awaiting execution by boiling water. Now useless and broke down with dry rotted line attached to the tops and an occasional carcass of some sort, indicating that some bait fish met his doom tied up inside awaiting the onslaught of pincers.
"God can't you think about anything cheerful, Sam, Does it have to be more dead things?” All the thoughts that I tried in vain to forget all morning, finally took over and I had accomplish nothing that I had set out to do that morning. It's like when you hear a song and then the rest of the day, it keeps playing over and over again in your brain, until it just about drives you nuts. So by now I realized that too much time had passed and I about as aggravated as I wanted to be. When your day starts going downhill, the best thing to do is park your tools and take a break and then maybe start over later, or just pack it in for the day and hope tomorrow will be more productive. Besides , you can never expect everyday to turn out perfect. Anyway, the day seemed shot to me, so I decided to end it early and headed for the truck for another visit to the Crow's Nest.
I slowed down as I rounded the curve heading down Bayview Dr., to enjoy some of the now familiar sights. Then it dawned on me, that the crows were no where in sight. They were not waiting on the truck outside the house, nor in the trees. It seemed a bit odd since they hadn't escaped my notice from the time the father announced their presence. I sped up toward the bar, sure that the answer lie directly up the road. I was not disappointed as I entered the parking lot, the roof line was lined with my friends; from one end to the other.
"Where else would they be Sam?" I mused. They know where you’re going, and where you have been! Hell. They are not just any old crows, Sammy boy! They are them damn Oak Orchard crows!"
I jumped from the truck before it stilled and with a hair up my ass, snatched the door open.
"Just somebody say something right about now." I thought to myself, ready with both barrels!
My wild eyed look seems to focus on everything real well. The locals had sensed something too, pretending I had not arrived. I settled into my stool, as it were, and smiled into thin air.
"Hey everyone’s a bit nuts these days." The bar keep heard me mumbling.
"What’s that?" He asked.
"Nothing, I'll have a beer." He was filling as I spoke.
"About time I got a little respect around here. I'm an Indian. This is my place." By now, grinning like a Cheshire cat, I was in rare form for sure. The combination of sleep deprivation, hard work, and some trip I must have taken, while asleep, fed my fire.
The door opened to the outside and Reddog appeared. It seemed like, to me, for a fleeting moment, he had been following me. He always seemed to show up when I did. Paranoid I guess. He slid up onto the next stool.
“Your friends are outside I see." He reached for money . The bartender knew the move.
“Some friends!" I swallowed hard.
“I’m Sam, what’s your name big guy?" I already knew it, but perhaps it was a nickname.
"You know my name." He returned to the mood I found him in last time.
"Have you been around here all your life? Hoping to break the ice jam.
"Too long. Can't get away from here." His cold voice trailed off with that comment. I didn't follow it up, and decided to let it go.
"Could I ask you some serious questions?" I held my breath at that.
"About the crows?" He seemed annoyed.
"Well about a lot of strange things that happened to me here."
"The crows are just the start." I began to drift off in thought.
"What’s on your mind?" He motioned for a refill. Still hunched over the bar, as if self self conscience of his size. His paws alone were like catcher's mitts.
Before I could decide on the first question, he offered an answer.
"The crows are here to take a spirit away."
"With all those damn crows, they might take away the whole damn town!" I tried to make light of the problem bothering me.
"You want to know or not." Anger now traveled across his face.
"Sorry man, it’s a bad joke."
"I really need somebody's opinion about something that happened to me the other day........well a lot of days."
"Voices!" The granite like relief of a face peered through me for a few seconds.
"You hear voices too."
"The crows were talking?" His annoyance was growing. No doubt patience was something that had not been passed along in his genes.
" I awoke from what I thought was a dream but I couldn't move."
"A voice started to talk to me. Tell me things." I looked off into space across the room behind him, as I talked.
"The crows were supposed to be some kind of sign for me, so that I would believe what the voice told me was real." Seriousness enforced my words.
" Dream state." He seemed to forget the annoyance.
A look appeared upon his face, hard to read, interest perhaps, but something else.
"It is called a dream state." He seemed puzzled, and now his gaze seemed to drift off somewhere else. He sat motionless and expressionless as if he went to another place.
"So what is this dream state thing?" I brought him back home.
" I have to go." He seemed agitated, hurried.
"Come on! You did this last time I asked you something. What the hell is going on around this place, anyway?" My voice took a tone that surprised even me.
"Go to the tree and ask." He rose and headed for the exit again.
"The tree?"
"Not that big tree?" He was gone.
I rose for the door myself, out of knee jerk response, but stopped short as I knew he would be gone. I stared at the door, how long, was anyone’s guess. I turned and looked around to the bar, studied every face, every item hanging on the walls, anything that might have a hint of reality to it. My jaw sagging down, froze in place. In time I made my way back to my seat. Disbelief was overwhelmed now by a numb feeling in my head. I couldn't form thoughts or words. And at the same time my brain was like a vortex inside, spinning faster and faster as I tried desperately to fathom what the hell was going on. Slowly I retrieved my money and emptied the draft. The cock sure attitude I entered with, had vanished with Reddog's parting words.
The sight of the tree, from down the road, was inescapable. My foot eased down on the brake pedal as our paths crossed. Strangely the tree was taking on meaning now. There was something about that damn tree too. As I neared my turn, out the corner of my eye, appeared a lone crow, far atop the mighty oak. The feathered sentry, making sure I hadn't forgot. My place in time began to feel like there was indeed a real importance for my being here. I wanted to know more. I wasn't leaving this place until I knew.
7
" Mary Returns "
It was just a matter of time before Mary showed up again. After all I had sent the bill over a week ago, for the second draw. And the last time we spoke she mentioned some extras. The arrangement had been that she would send the money to her brother, John, who lived not far from Oak Orchard, and he in return, to me. But no word from John nor Mary until the truck rolled up beside the house.
"Friends of yours?" Mary spoke as the crows scattered from my truck and the house.
"Only friend I have is the dollar bill." It was my way of letting Mary know that we needed to talk serious at first here.
"I brought your money with me. I decided that I wanted to take a look at your work and spend some time with my cousin."
Mary seemed in a very good mood. Almost giddy, I thought. Not like her serious look I had grown accustomed to. Then again , maybe it was the pot she smoked so frequently.
"Hitting the peace pipe again, Mary?" The comment sailed over her head. Maybe she was stoned.
Personally, I don't care what other people do with their lives. And if smoking pot turns you on, hey that fine. As long as it doesn't interfere with me in any way. But this was business, and here was Mary all smoked up, and I had things to attend with now. Namely getting paid and finding out if she wanted more done and for how much.
"Pipe? What pipe?" She looked at me as her head seemed to wobble ever so slightly, making the dumb grin that now occupied her face, seem even more stupid looking.
"You need some help here?" I tried to not laugh but my face widened past the point of no return.
As I stuck my head through the passenger side window, my suspicions were confirmed, by the skunk like aroma seeping out. Mary had accomplished the task of placing one foot on the ground , as she tried to exit the truck, preparing for a soft landing back on home planet.
" So whats going on?" She rounded the truck hood, braced with one hand. A major feat by the looks of her.
"You drove all the way down here, stoned?" I approached cautiously, not wanting to startle her. The thought of having to pick her back up off the ground, and then conduct business was really irritating, and now I was annoyed.
"Hell no. Just the last ten minutes or so, I smoked a little." She almost sounded reassuring.
" Must be good stuff, huh?" I replied in a sarcastic tone. The whole idea of smoking something that makes you goofy as hell, was plain stupid.
"So what's with the crows? Are you feeding them or something?" She glanced around to see where they had gone.
"I'd like to feed them something?" Not only was I annoyed but now her reminder of my visitors of the past couple of weeks, fueled me.
"What's that?" She looked back at me from her aerial scan.
"Nothing Mary! You want to see what it looks like so far?" I quickly changed the subject before our little discussion on nonsense, took on a bigger scope.
I was confident in my ability to change the subject without her further notice or discussion about the crows. Having tried pot first hand, I was an authority on how stupid you can get and how fast you can be both distracted and forget what your doing. The plan worked and we were finally through the front door after wasting who knows how much time.
Perhaps it was a good thing that Mary had arrived in the shape she was in. Even with adding some new framework, the walls were a bit uneven, unless of course, I had re-framed the entire second floor. With Mary's eye for perfection, now a bit askew, it made for an easier transition from inspection to payment.
"I was thinking that you might as well do the trim while your at it." Mary said, as she looked pleased with the new drywall.
"Good. I'll make up a material list for you so that when I am close to being done the taping and final sanding next week, you can call in the order for the trim to be delivered. I'll try to have that before you leave today,OK?" I was hoping the,leave, part might sink in a bit and serve to remind her that she did mention something about visiting her cousin.
Mary was basically a good person it seemed, but could have her moments. So my hurried approach to sending her elsewhere, was in line, given her condition. Besides, I was beginning to feel a bit uncomfortable anyway. Something about the way she moved, spoke, and looked at me while we discussed the trim work upstairs. It was giving me mixed signals in my head.
"Is she flirting with me?" I wondered as we headed back down stairs.
"What can we do down here?" She turned and just looked inquisitively, as I found Mary and I now in front of the big couch in the living room.
She paused for a second, shoving her hands into the pockets of her already tight jeans, and exposing her unbridled twins, tucked in the small t-shirt that now was in full view, with the flannel shirt unbuttoned and drawn to the sides. That same stupid grin that greeted me in the driveway, had now returned, as she shook her curly brown hair from her eyes. I could feel the tension building. The kind I didn't need at this time. Well, maybe not right now.
"What do you want to do?" It was a loaded question as I positioned myself directly in front of her. The stupid grin now took up residence on my face as time paused for a moment.
"Don't go there, Sam!" The voice of reason summoned me back.
"Oh, I don't know." She sighed, and looked around sheepishly, as if searching for something. Words maybe.
"How could we dress it up down here?" Her comments and tone now had Freud written all over. I backed off before taking the bait.
"It is a bit shabby down here. Too dark with the paneling and wallpaper." I said with my best business tone and composure.
"What would you do?" Her far away gaze returned in my direction.
"Well we could strip it off." Evil thoughts seeped in.
"God Sam! Choose your words more carefully." My grin widened as the thought occurred.
"The wallpaper that is. We could strip it off above the chair rail and paint the walls a bright color." I looked away before Mary could find an opening.
"OK. I see."
The tone indicated that she was not looking at the wallpaper. I stepped away, to a piece of loose paper across the room. Mary followed closely with her eyes. I spoke again without looking back.
"It's already coming loose in spots, and there is water damage in the corner here." I slowly glanced over my shoulder to locate Mary, half expecting to find her on the couch by now. Instead she got the point.
"Wow. That's a good idea." Her tone began to change back, from her cat like purr.
"We should do that then. And patch the walls too. And can we fix the ceiling any better? Or should we drywall over it?" Her mind was racing to catch up to the job at hand.
"Well, you could popcorn the ceiling. Or texture it, to hide the defects. It would be cheaper than to try to put up new drywall over it!" I knew that the money end of it would bring Mary back around into focus. Besides , as delicious as she appeared, I did have my principles. Well at least sometimes.
"What is popcorn? I don't mean to sound stupid, but is it some kind of texture or something?"
"You have seen it before Mary, I am sure. Have you ever seen the inside of motels or hotel rooms? The ceiling have this stuff on it that looks like it is covered with popcorn." For the lack of a better description, I was sure she had seen one or two rooms in a hotel. It felt awkward again.
When everything was all said and done, I found myself with another two, perhaps three weeks more of work. Mary's coy plan of attack, whether pot induced or not, had failed. I had remained reluctantly steadfast, as thoughts of sleeping with the customer and perhaps forfeiting any final money owed, brought me to my senses. Mary tracked off to her brother's house, peace and quiet returned, and now I could concentrate on more important things. Namely the job and what the hell was going on here in Oak Orchard.
I had no intention of even mentioning the goings on here, when Mary inquired about the crows. God forbid had I, and Mary, assuming I had lost it, order me off the property, crows and all. A part of me wanted to mention something to her though. Maybe she knew the meaning of this or heard it before. Maybe I could probe her a bit when she returned, before going back home.
It was late Saturday afternoon by now. Mary's surprise visit, and subtle innuendos played and replayed in my mind, as I sat on my new found friend, nursing on an old one. Happy hour extended until close to five, with thoughts of Mary and I, wrestling around on the couch. Finally, I parked the glass to get up and go outside, escaping those ideas. Ideas, that at this point, would become realities. With my inhibitions lowered, judgment impaired, and the would be scenarios run a muck in my brain; it wouldn't have taken much. I needed to get away before she did return and the whole thing got out of hand.
I lit up a cigarette as I stepped out the back door. Perching myself on an old lawn chair, that screamed the weight limits had been reached, as I looked around the yard. Musing a bit about the whole thing with Mary, hours back now, in my partial stupor I searched for the crows. They seemed old friends now, confidants. After all, they seemed to know what this was all about. I'll just pull up a branch, offer them down for some food, and find out what they really know. I laughed at the thought.
"Your loosing it again, Sam!" I headed back inside.
Thoughts of visiting the Crow's Nest, to escape Mary returning, and finding that now I were more cooperative, were quickly dismissed, as I realized that it was the only bar in town. Surely she would end up there. So I opted for a walk instead, complete with my silent aerial escort, to see if I could strike up a conversation with a neighbor or two. That is , if I could find one. There never seemed to be many people outside around this neighborhood.
After strolling a few blocks, admiring the cottages and half-ass additions some sported, I found that up ahead was that big tree. Probably a good spot to end up at anyway.
One crow arrived shortly before I did, assuring me that I was headed in the right direction. He called out, summoning me on, as I approached the massive oak. I answered back.
"You gonna let me in on all this, now?"
The crow cocked his head my way, ruffled his feathers, and hollered. I sat with him in eye-shot. A calm once again filled me. This tree gave off power somehow. It felt as if I belonged here, as if I were somehow part of the place. My thoughts trailed away with sunsets approach. Shore birds returned inland for the night. The blood red sky, reflected off clouds interlaced with cobalt blue. A cool breeze blew in off the bay. Boats drifting back with the incoming tide, brought a fisherman's voice's clear across the water to my ears. The water lapped the shore and dock pilings, making for an even greater level of comfort. Smells and sounds filled ever pore. This felt like home to me. It wasn't just a job anymore. I was becoming a part of Oak Orchard. Somehow I belonged here. I could feel it deep inside of me. Like the night the father spoke to me and told me to look inside and feel. I could feel something mysterious, almost magical. Something good was going to happen soon, I thought. At the very least something was going to happen.
8
" Two Stones "
My first thoughts were that I had overslept again, when I realized that the work was temporarily caught up and I could sleep in all I wanted. Besides I could use some extra sleep with the extended happy hour going a bit past where I wanted. It was all Mary's fault of course, with all her innuendo's , sly looks, coupled with my brain going into overdrive. But as usual, I got control of the situation before it got out of hand. If I had only been more insightful years back when I was married and had a family, maybe I wouldn't have all these demons now. It was hard all these years not having anyone in my life worth mentioning. Passing flings,one night stands, and lots of lonely free time, were all I knew after my divorce. I had thought from time to time of settling down again, but finding the right woman seemed impossible. So I spent the last ten years wrapped up in my business. Even that was beginning to lose my interest. Surely, with a clear head, Mary did not interest me. Well maybe she did a little.
Monday morning was like any other, where I always knew what I was going to do for the day, and ready to tackle it head on. I debated whether to take some measurements and start hanging the drywall in the final area, but that thought dwindled away quickly. It didn't take too much time to decide, instead I'd really rather take the day off. Not just think about it. Maybe take a ride and see what houses were for sale around here. It was a quiet town for sure. A good place to settle down, even if it was alone.
I fried up some eggs, half a pound of bacon, toast, and four cups of coffee to prime the pump. Milled around for fifteen more minutes replenishing the nicotine, while sorting through my mind, that if I needed anything while I was out, get it. I Found my keys, and stepped outside to bid good morning to the crows.
"Get the hell off the truck!" I barked as the pair flew immediately away.
I was beginning to like them until I noticed that below their perch on my mirrors, were bird shit, dripping down onto the doors.
"Whats this for? Good luck?" I looked airborne before entering the truck, in case an aerial assault was in the works.
I rolled around the block, and crept up and down a few of the side streets off Bayview. Most of the streets were a combination of gravel and crushed clam shells, with just a few of the streets blacktopped part of the way. A few of the cottages were for sale, but only a phone number, with an occasional price attached. Few of them were what you would call ,dream homes. Mostly old, weathered, and well in need of repair. But they all had character. Each was as individual as the people who inhabited them. They had a personality like mine, I thought; rough looking on the outside, but cozy and warm on the inside. At least that's how I imagined them.
I ventured to a boat launch, where a few people appeared working on boats, getting them ready for the season ahead. Scraping barnacles off the bottoms, applying fresh paint, and out in front of a work shop, an outboard motor was churning water in a large barrel like a paint mixer fixed to an electric drill. The old salt with dirty overalls, pliers in hand, looked as if he had just rolled in with the last tide. At the very least his coveralls had not seen the likes of a washing machine since the day they were purchased. And his cap was rimmed with sweat stains to complete the attire.
I parked the truck off to the side, beneath an oak tree, along side an old beat up Chevy Malibu, with blue faded paint, bald tires, a missing head light, and its newly appointed chauffeur, a crow. As I departed my truck the crow flew off, probably being informed of my cranky disposition. And without hesitation, I swaggered over to where the master marine mechanic stood.
"Hey how's it going?" I screamed to rise above the outboard gurgling sound.
He barely cracked his head around enough to recognize me, then continued on with his fine tune adjustments. While I thought for a moment whether to increase the volume or just walk away, a familiar face caught my eye off to the left, by the boat ramp. I turned and approached.
"Hey, hows it going, Reddog?" His return greeting was a carbon copy of the last cold shoulder.
"You work here?" I stepped a bit closer in case the boat motor drowned out my voice.
"Sometimes." He ventured, not turning his head to see who it was. That was becoming a familiar response.
"What brings you here?" He fumbled with some mooring lines.
"Just having a look around. See what else is around these parts besides the Crows Nest."
"Thinking about staying here?" His comment took me back.
"Why did you ask that?" His ability to read my mind was somewhat like the dream-state crap the father pulled on me at the house.
"You read minds too?" I laughed but he saw no humor in it.
"Reddog!" The old tide-runner, with pliers in hand, hollered.
He walked off toward the shop to follow the old man back inside. I had a look around the rest of the yard, hoping Reddog would return, and continue our one sided conversation, but finally fired the truck up and backed down the drive the way I had entered. A black, Labrador Retriever sat under a large forsythia bush near the end of the drive, ventured a mild bark, and put his head back down as I pulled away.
It was getting to be about eleven now, when the thought occurred to stop by the Crow's Nest, and pay Ray, the barkeep, a visit. Bayview Drive eventually wound away from the water and into some farm land. The countryside was beautiful, with stands of trees bordering fields, tractors plowing away at furrows, like snails across cement. Large farmhouses with old silos, broken down equipment, years waiting for parts, parked alongside out-buildings and weather beaten barns. Yards with private gardens, parallel to long clothes poles, lined with linens and garments of all sorts. It was typical of any farm area, except the bay loomed just miles back down the road. It was truly a paradise. This is a place where anyone would want to live, I thought as I ambled down the windy road.
My mind drifted as I rolled along the back-roads aimlessly. I wondered what the land was like before the settlers, when the Native Americans hunted and fished here, and worked small patches of earth to provide for their families. I tried to envision communities of them scattered across my field of vision, with smoke rising gently into azure blue sky. Men carrying game, and fish for cleaning whil women with baskets of clams and crabs, or bundles of firewood, hurried toward camp to start another important task. What a beautiful world and life it must have been back then.
"Holy shit!" The truck launched sideways, as I swerved to miss two deer that came from across the road, directly in front of the truck.
"Watch where the hell your going ,Sam. Or you'll be part of this landscape."
I laughed as the sudden fear from being startled was replaced with wonder at their surprise visit. They bounded across the field that had temporarily mesmerized me before our close encounter. As I watched them leave my sight, the truck now at rest along side a pasture, I returned to my daydream, with eyes fixed in the direction of the deer. A crow landed on a fence post and hollered for my attention. The dream was over. I stared at him for another few minutes, absorbed in thought, looked around once more, and pulled off.
I yanked my sunglasses off as I entered the Nest, strolled into an empty room except for Ray the bar-keep.
"Hello Ray."
"How ya been Sam? Beer?"
"Yeah. Not bad I guess. Could be worse I suppose." I reached for my wallet to discover it was gone.
"Ah shit. Wait a minute on that." I panicked as each pocket was searched.
"The old I forgot my wallet trick, ah Sam?" He set the beer in front of me and laughed.
"Don't worry pal, pay the tab next time. I trust you."
"Don't know why, but I do." With that he laughed to himself and returned to smells from the kitchen.
"Thanks Ray. Guess I left it back at the house." At least I hoped that was where it would be.
"You know something Ray. That catbird Reddog is strange to say the least. He doesn't have to disappear on you; he just don't talk much, period. What did you call him? A shape-shifter? What the hell is that?" I raised my voice so Ray, busy in the kitchen could hear.
" Who? Reddog?" He wiped his hands on a dish towel as he walked towards me.
"Yeah. Remember you were saying something about him last time I was in?"
"Can't remember. But what do you want to know?" Ray leaned on the bar.
"Aw I don't know. The guy is weird. Don't talk much. Disappears into thin air. But he knows things about this place."
"Sam. I told you , he is not someone to fool with or provoke. And I told you, people around here don't like nosy people, asking too many questions."
"Come on Ray. Everyone knows everybody's business around here!"
"That's true Sam. But your not from around here. Get my drift?" He grabbed my glass for a refill.
"I just want to find out about the weird shit happening to me!" I trailed those words off in thought.
"What kind of weird shit we talking about Sam?" He leaned in to me again.
His look was one of those looks you get from inquiring minds. Maybe he didn't need to know. They might think I'm nuts and run me out of town.
"Hell. You are nuts,Sam." I thought.
"Ah forget about it. Look I'll be back in to pay you for the two beers later. I got to make sure that wallet is at home or I'll be in deep shit. Thanks Ray."
"Yeah have a good one, Sam."
I returned about one in the afternoon and made some lunch. The half empty bottle on the counter, grew eyes for me. I parked it back in the cabinet, cleaned up the left over debris accumulated in the sink, and sat out in the back yard. Smells of blossoms mixed with salt marsh, filled my nostrils and pleasant thoughts returned. The early Spring accompanied the unusual warmth for April, with sounds of lawnmowers chopping away at tall grass, reminding me of life starting over. Spring and Fall had long been my favorite months. The richness of Spring, brought on colors, wildlife attracting new mates, flowers with busy pollinators, returning migrating birds filling the sky and tree limbs. With the Spring Peepers serenade at evening,to all things new.
I probably sat another two hours or so, daydreaming of past Springs and past good times, joys. Memories of my kids seeped in as I fought back tears. I had been a good father once. If only I had stuck with it. But looking back, I always tried to focus on the good, not the bad, the darkness. You can't change the past, nor live in it. You don't know what tomorrow will bring. But today, each day, you can control. Each day try to make it a day worth remembering. Life is too damn short to sit around lamenting about the what if's in life. And no amount of money or success can insure happiness. Instead, it's the things that don't really cost a dime. Time spent with family, walks in the woods, simple things that make us whole. Make us part of this planet, and this strange universe. Oak Orchard was part of this strange universe I thought as the bottle in the cabinet began it's siren call once again.
I rattled on in my head another good ten minutes or so until I had exhausted the memories; then the darkness seeped back in. It was time to get up and find something else to do. I felt refreshed as I began measuring for the last few pieces of drywall to hang. With the few hours of light left, I was driven, and it wasn't until a little after seven that I finished up hanging the last pieces. By weeks end, I'd be close to being done with the taping and mudding in the joints and could start on the final sanding of the drywall. Then next week I could begin the trimming and a few of the other demands, good old Ms. Costello mentioned. Mary had been married but went back to using her maiden name again after the divorce. I guess it's like one last blow to the ex-husband's mid-section, so to speak. One last dig to the old man like, " I don't need nothing from you any more," kind of thing. Who cares anyway I thought, a name is just a name.
By eight thirty, and only a single night cap downed, I decided to turn in to my old friend the couch. After a few weeks, it had conformed to my shape and drew me down in, like a lover promising comfort. In no time I was fast asleep.
"Wake up, my son. It is time." I stirred to the familiar voice.
"I am here." The voice grew louder as I fought off the slumber, then my eyes engaged the same crystalline room.
"Rise and go to the yard." He commanded as I was froze to the couch.
"You will stand in the center of the yard."
"In it , you will find the stones. One black and one white."
" The stones of life and death."
"I'm looking for stones?" What the hell for I wondered. But my thoughts were now his.
" Rise up now, Onaquacome, son of the Bear Clan. Go now."
Suddenly I found myself standing in the room, moving toward the back door, and the yard beyond. As I poised in the center of the yard, pitch black encased me, as the moonless night provided no direction for sight.
"Where are the stones?" I questioned.
"Reach down into the fire and feel the black stone and the white stone."
"There is no fire." As I reached down into the black emptiness. Hands touching something smooth, round. I drew back up and flames appeared all around dancing like warriors.
When I came back out of the dream state, I was back in the living room, right hand firmly gripping something. I stared into the grip afraid but knowing what it contained, and as I loosened, two almost perfectly round, smooth stones appeared. One black as coal, the other white as snow.
The events of the past few weeks, had gone from disbelief to a conglomerate of the real and the surreal. What had once been certain, steadfast, beliefs in life and death, now seemed turned upside down. What I believed to be truth now became doubt. Everything around me took on new meaning. Everything had purpose. I had purpose, although not quite sure what it was yet. But there was more here then I ever dreamed in a lifetime, for sure.
I awoke to the sound of a large truck, noisy diesel engine and squeaky brakes, jockeying for position out front of the house. I reached over to grab my boots to find a stone, still in each grasp. A black one and a white one, black as coal, white as snow.
"Well I'll be damned!" I stared for a second or two and found a resting place in my pocket for them. It was time for work.
9
" Four Leaf Clover "
The morning flew by, as I unloaded the trim, bid the driver off, stacked the trim off to one side of the living room, and prepared to dive into the job of taping the drywall and applying the first coat to the corners with a vengeance. Mary had not been derelict in ordering the trim for me. In fact it was well ahead of schedule of the drywall. New thoughts swirled in my head now, as every once and a while I grabbed hold of the stones, reinspected them, shook my head and returned them back to their new home in my pocket. I was well past the crows, past vanishing Indians and walks to the tree in the middle of the night. My head whirled, wondering what new things lie ahead in this journey. What the stones meant and what was I to do with them. And the name, Onaquacome? What did it mean? Was it my name? Questions and more questions danced in my head as I worked. I couldn't wait for night fall now, as drywall compoud flew in every direction. It had become secondary though, as I hurried through the day. I hurried to find out more, anxious to find the answers to this mystery. Anxious now for nightfall to come and the voices to return in my head. I wasn't leaving this place without knowing.
By two in the afternoon my mind caught up with the feverish pace of work, and molded together to form a knot in my stomach. It was time for a break and some food. Time for a pit stop before the race started over again.
I was well into my second tuna fish sandwich, when a strange feeling came over me. But what was it now that I was feeling? Something was not right here. It was like something out of that movie, Star Wars, when Obwan-Kenobe felt a tremor in the force. With that I placed the dish aside, rose up from the couch, and ventured toward the back door.
Slowly I drew the musty smelling curtain, tacked up to the back door, and peered out , knowing what I had felt, might be there waiting in the back yard. My answer was immediate. There sitting cross-legged in the middle of the yard, was a boy about ten or eleven years old, intently combing the grass, searching for something. But what? I pulled the door back and slowly forced the old , frozen screen door back to life. My teeth once again gnashed as the hinges cried out for lubrication.
"How Ya doing?" I called out the half open screen door, sure he had heard me.
"OK." He replied. His gaze never left the grass.
"You lose something?" I stepped out the door the rest of the way, uncertian about his inattentiveness toward me.
"No." Still there were no eye contact.
"Well, what are you looking for then?" I queried.
"Four leaf clovers!" He answered.
"You ever find any?" I stepped out closer as he answered again, never looking up.
"Here's one." He held it up above his head for my inspection, as his constant downward gaze began to unnerve me.
"Wow, they are hard to find aren't they?" I tried to make him or perhaps even me feel a little at ease. There was something very odd about this kid, but what, I couldn't quite figure out yet.
"Not really. Here you can have this one." His arm extended up and outward toward me, bearing the gift as he looked directly into my eyes.
"No. you keep it." I stepped within arms reach and knelt down to his level.
"Take it. I have plenty of them. This one is for you. It's number fifty." He transferred it to my hand, as I rose once again to my feet. My jaw slack, and eyes growing wide in awe, he returned to his search. I had just turned fifty the other day. This seemed like an awful funny coincidence to me. Before I could digest the whole thing he spoke again.
"Have you ever seen a five leaf clover?" He stopped to look back up.
"Never even heard of such a thing." I watched carefully now in case he had some magic trick to perform.
"Want to see one?" He smiled.
"Sure!." I sat back down, sure he had one in his possession.
"I'll be right back. Stay right here."
The boy quickly scrambled to his feet and ran across the street out of sight. After siting and examining the clover for a minute I got up to see where he had got off to. As I got to the end of the driveway , he reappeared out of a door, three houses up and across the street. With a scrapbook under his arm, he broke into a happy trot.
The closer he got , I could see he had already began to thumb through the pages. I pulled down the tailgate just in time for his arrival and he flung it down and open.
"See? This whole page is five leaf clovers!" He pointed as he twitched back and forth the way kids do when excited.
"No kidding!" I grabbed the book in disbelief, studying in detail ever one. Five leaf clovers in all sizes stared back off the page.
"Where did you find them?" I handed the book back.
"Everywhere. Turn the next page!" He shoved it back, still doing his tap dance.
"Holy cow. That's a lot of four leaf clovers." I wanted to say holy shit, but held back. It was that impressive.
"Turn the page, there are more! Forty-nine. You can count them."
"I see." I pretended to count them as I looked on in amazement , trying hard to digest what was happening.
" How do you know where to look for them?" I set the book aside, and studied this strange new visitor.
"Oh. Places, In fact your yard has a lot of them." He grabbed the book to admire all his finds.
"I've never found on in my whole life. Thank you very much." Admiring his gift to me I continued my inquiry.
" So, you live across the street there?" I continued.
"Sometimes." His answer was flat, sort of puzzling also. His dance and smile had gone somewhere else, with my question.
"What do you mean by that?" I pressed for an answer, confused.
"Sometimes I stay with my Grandmother, for the summer." He looked around as he spoke, unsure of his surrounding.
" You live here now?" A spiny finger pointed in the direction of the house.
"No. I'm just fixing it up for someone else." I replied.
The question had caused pause within me. I joined him now as we both stared at the house. Hell, I thought, this should be my house. I wanted to say it was my house. Strange!
" Are you an Indian?" Before the question sunk in, I was staring at him, studying his face. Who was this kid? Time stopped as I searched for an answer. Thoughts now racing in my head.
"Why makes you ask that?" I queried.
" I don't know. Just thought you might be one?" His tap danced returned, as he began to get fidgety.
"I have to go now." Before I could respond he had his book in hand and skipped away toward the house across the street.
"Hey. Wait a minute! You have a name , boy?" I walked over to meet his progress up the street.
"Johnie. Johnie Applegate. What's yours mister?" He stopped and turned.
"Sam Gebben, nice to meet you." I stretched my hand out, and he quickly grabbed it, shook and was off again.
OK, byenow. And thanks for the clover!" He returned to a half trot as I followed his movement to the door, waiting to see what he would do next.
I fell back to the tailgate, smiled and re-examined the gift he had given me. Then reached back into my pocket from side to side until I located the two stones. Side by side I compared the stones with the four leaf clover. Nice kid, I thought, not like the typical kid his age.
Meanwhile an old expression seeped into my head as I examined the two items, the stones and the clover. Thoughts of when I were a kid and look many times without finding a single clover filled my head. Memories of my boyhood with my dad and his funny expressions.
"I don't know whether to shit or go blind." He would often say and I would laugh at hearing him cuss. It was one of my dad's favorite expressions, although he never let mom hear him say it around me; but when ever we went fishing, dad was full of jokes and cussing mixed with a tune he whistled. Even today I can still hear that tune in my head, he whistled it so often. Some of his saying were to just make me laugh, while others perhaps to make me feel like a man. A little man, I guess. Dad took delight in cussing and saying funny things to me. His eyes would grow wide as quarters, as he tilt his head back and let her fly. I'd laugh and stare at the crows feet around his cracked face, and think that he was the best dad in the world. In fact he was, you know?
Dad had spun a few yarns in his day too. In fact hen we were growing up, my brother and I expected the tall tales dad would tell, when we went fishing together. But nothing even remotely came close to what was happening to me now in this place. I wondered if dad ever heard about things like this when he was a boy growing up in Oklahoma. What was going on here anyway? I really hadn't had much of an explanation about this so far, at least not to my satisfaction,
except for maybe the boys. Maybe that was all I needed to know.
Before I went back at it, I found a resting place for my four leaf clover in an empty spot where a picture could be placed in my wallet. I thought about the young kid and his luck at finding all of them and decided that maybe it was not as hard as it seemed. But then again, the five leaf clovers were a whole other matter. I had truly never even heard of such a thing. Guess I'm not up on clover picking.
My mind wandered about the clovers, long enough to allow thoughts of greed to slip in. Maybe this kid was full of luck. He could pick me some winning numbers for the daily pick three or pick four on the lottery. Hell, why not the lotto itself. One and done, so to speak! The more those greedy thoughts took hold the more it became absurd. This kid could be my lucky charm. Definitely I would have to call on him and have some more discussion about it.
A familiar sound outside reminded me that there were more important things to attend to. I glanced out the upstairs window facing up the street to find his location. The truck and and porch roof were empty, but his second call drew my attention to half way up the street to that kid's house. There on the chimney, was a crow , staring back at me. I wanted to open the window enough to holler up the street to him and let him know that it wouldn't hurt my feelings if he and his entourage followed the kid for now on. At the very least, deposit their bird shit somewhere else, instead of my truck.
Farther up the street I could see someone sitting at my thinking tree as it were. It was visible enough to see that I could make out a figure of a man sitting on the root where I sat when I paid visit to the tree during one of my midnight madness walks.
"Hell, that looks like Reddog!" I mumbled as I strained to get a better view. I rose to me feet from the lower then usual window location and headed for the front door downstairs. "What the hell is he doing around here anyway? He won't get away from me this time." My pace quickened as questions for him, began to line up in my head.
I slowed my pace a bit as I got closer to the top of the street. It was him alright and by the looks of it he hadn't spotted me yet to make an exit. He looked solemn, sitting there on the root, perhaps deep in though even. Then again, he was a hard one to read, his stone face, always expressionless. Those short answers to my questions were always flat but somehow full of meaning.
"How's it going?" I lit up a smoke as he caught sight of me.
He stared right though me and for a moment, as his face seemed to have a hint of fear in it. I had startled him perhaps from whatever occupied his mind. Just then a crow landed on the ground not fifteen feet from directly in front of where he sat. Reddog picked a stone up and flung it at him. However the bird did a little hop, walked to where the stone came to rest, stroked his beak upon it a few times, looked back at the both of us and went airborne.
"Seems you got crows following you too, huh?" He wasn't amused so I discontinued the grin.
"Your crows, not mine. Why are you following me?" He seemed angered as he looked my way again.
"Hey. I'm not following you, I saw you from the window down the street where I was working, and decided to come up and say hi." He wasn't buying into it by the cold look he shot back.
"Look Reddog! I just wanted to ask you a few things that's all. I'm not looking for any trouble. Your..." I stopped without finishing the sentence.
"I'm what? His massive frame tensed as he shot back.
"Well, if you let me finish, you would understand why I am asking.
He rose up and seemed even larger then I first thought. I took a step back, eyeballing the two bear paws attached to the tree limb arms, quite sure I was a safe distance from his grip, while imagining that I might get clocked any moment.
"You ask too many questions, white boy. Anyone ever tell you that?" He made a beeline for the road.
"Why the hell is everyone so tight lipped around here anyway?"
I blurted it out, half out of fear, the other half , frustration. It worked. He stopped dead, turned and approached, stopping short as if he was making a mistake and knew he took the bait, then glanced around before continuing.
"Alright then, what kind of dream did you have? Tell me what you saw!" His tone seemed to change to concern.
"Well I heard a voice. It told me that he was the father of two sons that were murdered a long time ago."
"Murdered, you say?" I could sense and immediate tension returning to him now.
"That's what the father said, I started hearing these things and I couldn't move or wake up it seemed. And when I thought of something in my mind, the father seemed to be able to read my thoughts. All I could do was lay there, unable to move. Everything in the room looked like it was made of glass and if I could reach out and hit it, it would break.
With that Reddog stepped closer, crouched down grabbing a stick, and began doodling in the dirt like some kid, as he thought intently.
"What else did the father say?" Not looking up at me this time, similar to what the kid did to me in the back yard. It sent chills down my spine as I searched for the next words.
"The voice of the father said that I was meant to come to this place. He said I would be the one to release the spirits of his two sons, so they could go to the spirit world." My mind was now racing as I recalled the events that had taken place that night with the father. I wanted to get it all out before Reddog changed his mind or lost interest, and wandered off again.
" Did you see them?"
"Who? The boys? No, I haven't seen anyone, at least not that I know of, just his voice and them damn crows, that he said were a sign for me so I would believe him."
"You must have been drunk." He rose to leave again, this time laughing.
"The hell I was! It was real!" Angered raged from somewhere within as indignation rose up at being referred to as if I were drunk.
"Look. The father gave me these stones."
I pulled the two stones out of my pocket as he turned, still half grinning, then stopped and froze at their sight.
" Where did you get those?" He demanded.
"In the back yard. The father told me to get up and go out back. Told me to reach down in the pitch black night and the first thing my hand touched, to pick them up. That's just what I did and came back inside, opened my hand and there they were. One black and one white stone, just like he told me.
Reddog's face focused on my grip, his hand reaching out unconsciously for the stones, then he stopped short of touching them. A silence fell for a moment until he looked back up in disbelief.
"Bad medicine!" He said as he turned and beat a path back toward the road.
"Wait. Come back ,dammit. What the hell do they mean? Where are you going? Just tell me what all this means?
He was close to a rage now as he turned back once again.
"It means leave it alone! Leave me alone! Go back to where you came from. I don't want to hear of this no more, and stay away from me!" He yelled as he turned to continue up the road.
"Man! This is bullshit! It's just a couple of stones. I don't care what you say. This whole thing was real and someones going to explain this crap! I'm not leaving this place until I get the answers I want! You hear me??"
My volume had increased with every step he took. Now I was pissed for sure. Rational thoughts about what this large Indian might have done to me, had he grabbed hold of me,were replaced with anger. Before the words "screw you" shot out of my mouth, he stopped again and looked back. The two stones were in the ball of a fist, mid air, as I was shaking them during my tirade. I met his gaze. Suddenly it sunk in. He meant business. Perhaps I had better leave well enough alone for now.
As I walked back toward the house, I couldn't stop thinking about our brief meeting. Why had Reddog been there in the first place? Had he gone out of his way to be close to where I was working? Perhaps to run into me. What did he know about the dream state and the two stones? Why was he angry and then leave when I brought the subject up? There had to be more to this then he was letting on. It was not just, bad medicine. He knew something and was not telling me about it.
The more I thought about it , the more I felt we would meet up again. The conversation did not end here for sure. Somehow, we were going to meet up again. This time I would be ready for him. This time, he will have to answer my questions.
My thoughts trailed off as I strode through the front door. It was as if the house had something waiting for me here. There was a strange feeling I had, every time I entered or left this place now. Ever since that first night that I heard the voice, I began to get a feeling like there was someone watching me, waiting for me. And not just the damn crows either! The feelings were very strong today. May be tonight I will find out more.
10
" DANCES "
I really didn't know whether to shit or go blind! I sat for hours back at the house, bewildered and mad at the same time. Somehow I began to understand what my father said when he used that expression; now it had meaning. I was getting tired of this closed mouth town. I was the one who faced ridicule by asking questions. All this was real to me, and I wanted to know if any one ever had an experience like this before. I had been taking all this with a grain of salt but it was beginning to be too real. I couldn't explain it but knew that what I saw and heard was something real. The voice that woke me and the trance that I seemed to be in. The trips to the tree at night, the stones, and the crows constantly following me. I just wanted that big Indian to give me some input; settle my mind about a few things If it was part of their beliefs ,I wanted to understand them better. If these things ever happened to anyone else around here, I wanted to hear about them. The whole thing seemed incredible to me, after all it was a hundred years ago. You would think people would want to hear a story like this, especially all the bums in the bar. Hell they always could use a good laugh.
The more I thought about it, the more I got annoyed. The only person that seemed to want to talk about this were me, and the voice in my head. Hell! Anybody would need a drink after all this crap. The drinking idea made it's way back inside my head and the idea would have given birth had it not been for Reddog's words, " you were probably drunk." Now this bottle in my hand took on a whole new meaning then it was worth, as I put the cap back on and returned it to it's place on the counter. This was bullshit. I flopped back onto the couch, resigned to the fact that, what had started out as a good day had definitely gone south now.
"Screw him! Screw everybody! As soon as this job is done , I'm out of here." I yanked the unzipped sleeping bag formed into a blanket, over my half naked body and went to sleep.
"Onaquacome, my son, awake."
"You must go to the tree."
"You have much to do yet." He commanded
"Come on, give me a break!" I awoke even more annoyed.
"It is answers you want, do you not?" He read my mind.
"You bet your ass I do." I fought the dream state to wake up.
"Do not fight it , my son. You were meant to come here. Rise up, and go to the tree.
"I need sleep." Still trying to fight it.
I felt myself rising up uncontrollably, putting my shoes on and heading for the front door. I stepped out into the darkness and walked past my truck. Something was different here. I heard voices, but not the father's. They were child's voices, laughing, playful voices. I stretched my hands out to each side. I could not see them but swore I felt them around me, dancing in circles as if in some kind of game, chasing each other. I moved my outstretched arms and turned in circles too, joining in this surreal dance of madness. They were there, his sons, and I could feel their presence. Could hear their laughter. Slowly I walked out the drive and toward the end of the street. The anger that I awoke with was waning, while awe replaced it with their dance and presence. I smiled as I looked around to see if I could indeed see them.
"Hey you guys? You are real aren't you?" They laughed with me.
Wonder replaced the anger I had felt, and a feeling of joy now filled my heart. Their presence was magical; there was purpose to all of it. This dance of the dead renewed my spirits and took hold of me. I could almost make out their shape as we closed in on the tree. I hadn't been drinking and this was not my imagination. Something wonderful was happening as they led me to the tree, the thinking tree.
I sat upon the mighty oak root extending from it's base and called on my Creator.
"Great Spirit of my forefathers, hear my voice. Allow me to understand and see what it is I am to do."
The two boys danced off toward the beach as I now could see them take form in a distance. They ran toward the beach, and women appeared along the shore. The sun shined bright as men in canoes made for the shore bringing fish and crabs, in all sorts of baskets, and passed them to the waiting women on the shore. Fires burned and racks of fish hung in it's smoke to dry. It was a moment in time long ago; a happy place where children played along the shores; peace filled the air and a calmness like I had never seen before; tranquil. It filled my pores.
"Once this land prospered and peace and happiness filled our people. But badness came in and a bad spirit followed it, then there were troubles." Everything slowly vanished before my eyes and I returned to the crystalline darkness, as The Great One spoke.
"You are confused as to why you are here?"
"Yes, Great Spirit."
"The father spoke to you. Told you that you had to walk through the fire before you felt the water."
"Yes , he spoke that to me."
"What does it mean to you? Can you feel it?" He continued.
"The fire is badness I feel. The water will free the badness and refresh. I could feel what he said but without understanding."
"You are here because of the badness. Not yours, but because of the badness of others. But within you there are fires burning also. This world is consumed with such fire. But you have come to bring the waters. You have come to this place to set this matter straight, and others. There is a pureness in your heart, truth in you, just as your forefathers.
"I don't understand?"
"You will soon." He reassured me.
" But Great One, how will I know what to do? What to say? And whom do I speak to?
"You will know. You will feel it and it will burn inside you like fire. Then you will tell others and they will know too. Know that I am the same God as all their forefathers. That I see all things and will bring all things to bear, making all things right in it's appointed time."
A deep reverence fell upon me and I felt humbled as he spoke again.
"Did you think it was just for the two sons , that you have come here? There is more, much more . Go now and take the sons with you because they are now your sons also. Soon you will be whole as they are."
With those words I imagined that somehow I was about to die a horrible death with those words.
"Thank you , Great Spirit." My voice trembled.
"Go, Onaquacome. Soon the peace will return and justice will be served. You will not have to do anything but allow yourself to be the vessel for the waters. Feel your heritage my son. Your obedience will bring you great peace and happiness."
"Thank you Great Spirit. Give me strength."
The sons danced all the way back to the house, in this surreal playground. A warmth grew inside me as I felt them around me; something wonderful was happening. The anger and doubt had left, replaced with hope and a sense of purpose. I somehow didn't want so many answers, only which direction I would go next. The why, would become evident, the how would become reality. I was sure of it now and smiled as the boys danced and ran ahead, laughing. I wanted to join them and ask questions about their life, but I knew their brief appearance was just part of the reassuring the Great Spirit had imparted to me. Something important was about to take place. The intrigue of it all filled my mind with new thoughts, wondering what else was about to take place here in this strange town, and how I would fit into this cosmic puzzle that I somehow had been chosen to solve. What else was happening here in Oak Orchard? Maybe the town had some deep dark secret and I was about to expose it. I wondered who I was supposed to talk to and who would give me answers. Was it Reddog? My first guess was no, since he had avoided me and my questions with regularity. Maybe I would meet someone new. Maybe it was the boy that gave me the clover. My mind swirled with new thoughts. The job itself was secondary to me as my very beliefs about life and death were being challenged. I never would have thought of talking to a dead spirit, let alone the Great Spirit himself. But now I had all the reasons I needed to stay here. Something good was going to happen. I could feel it. But what?
11
"Empty"
It had been years since I saw my children. Too many years in fact. After a nasty breakup and divorce, I was left with a lonely feeling inside and broken. My wife had succeeded in turning my children against me and although the courts were on my side, I decided to not pursue putting her in jail for refusing visitations. A decision I have long regretted.
Somehow the loss of the fathers two sons seemed to weigh just as heavy on my heart as did his. So there was a feeling of solace in my nightly walks with my invisible friends. They were more then friends, they were family, my family, just as the father told me. They were now my sons also. In my custody, their spirit future resided in my care. Over the past several days I worked without thinking much about the job. Everything seemed to go smoothly while every once in a while I would shove a hand into my pocket; tumble the two stones and ponder my next move. Thoughts of the work at hand were replaced with the bigger picture swirling around in my head like some circus, dancing bear. This was one weird ass place for sure. I hadn't heard a peep from Mary, nor thought about her, the money, or much else except Oak Orchard.
"What ever happened to that lucky charm kid?" I thought to myself as I paused at the front second story window, eyes focus glazed over at the doorway of where he disappeared just a few days before. In an instance my thoughts were now more intent, as one of the locals landed upon the rooftop, flapped a hello wave and screamed a defining caw. I smiled for a brief moment as I knew by now this had to be another sign. After all, I hadn't seen much of my aerial friends lately.
"Damn it, Hitchcock couldn't even think this shit up!" I turned and headed obediently toward the front door, determined to find my next mission.
As I stepped to the driveway, the crow had left his post. I scanned the trees and other rooftops, but he was gone. A few more steps toward the kids house were halted by a familiar sound. I looked back over my right shoulder and sure enough my sentry had changed quarters. At attention upon my roof now, he let out one more instruction, as his head dipped toward my destination.
"Be better if you guys could talk," I shouted back. The truth is I was glad the damn crows couldn't. Bad enough I heard voices at night, kids dancing around me as I sleep walked and all the other nonsense. Personally I think I am doing well with all that had happened so far. That is, I haven't lost my mind yet. God, I think way to much you know.
Our gaze met briefly, then the crow cocked his head to one side as if to say, "well?" I got the point, stepped a few more steps closer, looked back and he was gone again.
"Damn crows!" I turned back toward the house and he had returned to the post upon the kids roof. If this was a game, the crows sure knew how to get under my skin real good. I wasn't sure whether to hate them or love them. But the fact was they were part of this journey I was on. They were the leaders and I a blind follower; like some bad religion with a cup of cool aid waiting for me at the end. God I hope not.
What started as a polite knock, turn swiftly into and angry pound after several unresponsive minutes had passed. In frustration and annoyance I was about to kick the door in when a soft voice from behind beckoned.
"No one is home." A soft gentle voice reassured.
I turned in time, just before I threw my fist headlong into the cross buck door panel that I had just spent a good five minutes getting acquainted with.
"What that?" I turned to greet the intruder.
Surely with what took place next, was what John Penelli would have reminded me of, that is, who I really was, "you dog." My eyes caressed every inch of her in those first few seconds. From the salt and pepper, shoulder length brown hair, all the way down to her barely exposed ankles and sandals. She wore a frilly white blouse with crimson flowers embroidered in, and a full length ,paisley skirt that now, silhouetted by the sunlight, revealed a glimpse of her inner thighs. The sixties were long gone and in her face I determined that she had missed them by a good ten years or more.
"Hi." I stepped off the stairs with my eyes glued to hers. She somehow drew me into them. "Excuse me for staring, I'm Sam." My hand extended to greet her.
"Joanne, nice to meet you."
Before I could engage a conversation and stop staring at her, she broke in. "No one lives there." Her beautiful brown eyes met mine replete with an engaging smile to match.
"Oh.....what do you mean?" Both puzzled by her reply and the sudden magic that now occupied my mind.
"Not in five years." She continued as her voice took on a slightly different tone. Seedy thoughts retired to that "bad boy" part of the brain where they originated.
"Are you related?" She queried, already knowing the answer.
Immediately I sensed something wrong, but what? Was it in her eyes, or her tone of voice? I carefully replied , knowing that the two other boys presence need not be revealed at this time, or any time in the immediate future.
"No, I am working across the street and saw that several of your neighbors are in need of different kinds of repairs." Looking around to draw her attention off of why I really was pounding on the door.
"Five years you say? What happened?" Her long pause spoke volumes and I sensed right away that her answer was one I was not going to want to hear.
There was a tragedy of sorts, five years back, that happened to the people that lived here! Their grandson was murdered!"
"He was a good kid. You always saw him around the neighborhood searching for four leaf clovers!" With than, she gave off a sad , weak smile.
Meanwhile my heart stopped dead and restarted again at a breakneck speed. This could not be happening again to me. Not another dead kid. But it couldn’t be the same kid could it? I had spoken to him and he was as real as anyone could be. I must have the wrong house, and was not paying attention to which one he disappeared into, that's it. I desperately tried to appear calm as she was fortunately caught up in the tragedy and her mind trailed off to a place that was five years back no doubt.
"Did they ever catch who did that?" I ventured.
"No , it's still a mystery." Her eyes still trailing of to parts unknown.
At this point,I wanted to excuse myself, start packing the truck and get the hell out of Oak Orchard for good. Just when I felt I could handle things, something else like this comes up. Shit, maybe something worse! A knot formed in my stomach as thoughts raced back and forth at this new revelation. It can't be the same kid ,Sam, I reassured myself. My hand unconsciously tumbling the two stones in my pocket, while thoughts of the two dead, well not dead, Indian boys danced around in my head just like their presence. Before I could form an intelligent response, a voice called from across the street.
"Caw, Caw!"
"Friends of your?" She asked with a sharp smile retuning to her look.
"No ! They are just........." I caught myself from continuing the curt answer in time to regroup. "It just seems to be a lot of crows around these parts."
"Yeah, it is strange." Her gaze now fixed also to the rooftop speaker." Never were any around here until just recently. You know , this is Indian land here that all these houses are on." Her gaze not looking right through me as if she sensed something. "They believe that the crows take the spirits of the dead to their resting place. Both the good and the bad."
I looked away back toward the roof, but my constant follower had left his podium.
"So I have heard." I slowly turned around to meet her eyes once more.
"Where do you live Joanne?" Now it was my turn.
"On the next street over, Seminole." She glanced over her shoulder as if we both could see the place, then back at me. "Can't miss my house. It's the only one on the block with purple and yellow trim!" Her eyes lighted up as I thought that she had both picked the colors and applied them. "You should stop by sometime." Her smile returned with a shy look in her eyes. She was of course flirting now and revealing her availability.
"I would like that. May be you could tell me more about this strange place. How long have you lived here?" My racing heart now took on a different beat.
"Almost twenty years now." Her feet shuffled a bit as to say it was time to go. She was uncomfortable about something. Perhaps it was her unconscious invitation and sudden forwardness.
"I better get back to work. I have a lot to do." She gladly acknowledged me. "Nice to meet you Joanne." I extended a hand.
" Nice to meet you too, Sam."
The energy passed back and forth from hand to eyes and smiles. I almost didn't want to let her go now. She was like magic. Like eating pistachios. Once you start you can't sop eating them. I was eating up her attention as well.
As we parted in different directions, my energy force and new found desires vanished as quickly as they came. The harsh reality about the boy was starting to look more and more like the truth to me. All I could think of was, "holy shit Sam, this is getting ugly now!"
The crow dropped down out of no where and landed a few yards ahead, squawked once and sauntered toward the house in a some what, follow the leader game. Thoughts of leaving this place, were vanishing with every step I took toward my nest. I wanted answers but not these. What is the old saying? Be careful what you wish for?
"Empty for five fucking years!" I mumbled.
With those words the crow glanced back and flew off. I was back where I belonged.
I must have sat on the musty smelling couch for what seemed like hours, while trapped in one thought or another. I finally pulled myself free from the trance.
"Freud would have field day with this one." My hand still fumbling in my pocket.
Across the room was the one familiar item, attached to the wall of this place that was for some reason left behind; and it was the first focus of my attention when this all started; the dream catcher.
I knew what it meant and what it was supposed to do; protect the young from evil spirits while they slept. Why now, it was my center of attention , I have no idea.
"Guess they don't always work, huh? Hell not even the four leaf clovers!" I thought out loud as a noise in the back yard distracted me once more. After 2 hours of thought, I paused and wondered for a split second if I should investigate.
"Let it go ,Sam." A tiny voice from inside spoke.
Another glance at the dream catcher, the back door and what awaited me, and inadvertent tumble of the stones and I had my answer.
"Let me go visit Joanne!" I smiled that seedy smile that only John would appreciate; opened my bag of clothes and headed for the shower.
I bounced out of the shower, bad boy brain and all and stared into the mirror. It seems that all guys think they look great, regardless of the beer gut and all. While on the other hand, a woman will find every flaw and defect when they see themselves in the mirror. Why I don't know. I dressed and headed for the truck with thoughts of some kind of fancy wine that I would bring her. Chateau Monet La Femme? I chuckled as I knew I was a shot and beer kind of guy. Hell, more like Boone's Farm Apple wine or even a bottle of Jack Daniels would work. I headed up the road like a kid going to a candy store and the wine was secondary to thoughts about Joanne, both honorable an otherwise. A shit eating grin covered my face as John's words echoed again in my head. Bad boy Sam.
It had been a good eight months since I got laid and broke up with the psycho young girl I had been dating. But Joanne was my style, my kind of woman I kept telling myself. Her bohemian appearance was right out of the Bad Boy play book of what I wanted. The brown eyes with no makeup, and her hair had all the earmarks of a natural beauty. She had me from the doorstep.
"Hell Sam, don't fuck this one up again!" I spoke out loud as I shot out of the grog shop parking lot and headed back down toward the Orchard. Another ten minutes and I was creeping down Seminole looking for purple and yellow trim. Problem was it was night and no one told me that Oak Orchard absorbs all colors at night. The Oak trees seemed to swallow up everything, like some Black forest out of Robin Hood.
A stupid looking pig holding a round flower pot in its mouth drew my attention as purple and yellow trim came into focus. This must be it! I carefully parked to not draw attention and swaggered to the front door with my bottle of Matuse in hand.
"Hello Sam. Nice to see you again." The door swung open faster then her first flirtatious words. The doorway light revealed a pair of legs attached to Daisy Duke cutoffs, a halter top filled with perky B cups and legs up to her lunch pail.
"God Sam! You are a damn dog." I grinned from ear to ear with those thoughts, as the little brain in my pants took command. I was again stumped for words as I traversed the doorway.
"Hope you like this?" I shoved the bottle in her direction for approval, and a readjustment in my pants as she turned for the kitchen.
You know there are women and then there are women! When someone stuns you, there are not enough words to say at that given moment. So I stared as she waltzed across the room, eyed drawn to the lower section of this beauty. If I had been some Romeo, I could have found those words, but as it were I just had a dumb sense of humor batting for me.
"You look nice ,Joanne." God I wish I could have taken that back. The truth is I wanted to tell her how great she looked in those tight pair of jeans. After all the Paisley dress said nothing to me at first. But her appearance now had my little brain in overdrive. "Slow down Sam", is all I thought.
The living room was small but decorated well for my taste. A combination of antique furniture and retro 60's decorum. In one corner sat a wood burning fireplace with glass front doors for the occasional ambiance, placed on a marble slab on top of old plank flooring. The walls sported anything from black and white stills of old farmhouses, barns and Civil War encampments, to a poster of Woodstock. A place that she of course was too young to ever have attended. The lights gave off a soft orange-yellow glow that had tranquility written somewhere on the bulbs. In the opposite corner of the room was a Victorian couch with covers on each arm and a blanket for those cold winter nights on it's spine.
Upon returning from the kitchen with two wine glasses, Joanne set them upon a mahogany coffee table; placed herself strategically on the couch and patted the other cushion with a smile my way and spoke.
"Here, have a seat, Sam."
Trying not to trip over both my own feet and the next words ,proved to be a challenge, as I gladly positioned myself beside her. I had been wrong about the couch. That became clear to me as my leg brushed hers as I sat and her womanly scent filled my nostrils with the close proximity.
She lifted my glass and next offered a toast. "Here is to new acquaintances!"
The bells in my ears rang out round one and in my corner were hope, eagerness, anticipation and want, as she swallowed a mouthful of wine and her beautiful brown eyes peaked over the rim of the glass. I was completely dumbfounded, and quite sure my expression revealed that to her.
"Do you like the wine?" I ventured.
"Yes, it is my favorite!" Her eyes still fixed upon me as if I were Svengali.
I believe I could have brought a bottle of Ripple and she would have been ecstatic. Loneliness can be a real bitch sometimes and when two lonely people get together, the sparks can fly. The next twenty minutes or so of small talk and two more glasses of wine were all I needed for my next move, but before I could she jumped up from the couch with new life.
"I'll be right back, are you hungry?" If she only knew my hunger for her. She could have led me around on a dog lash at this point for all I cared. I was totally struck by her natural beauty, not to mention her smell and appearance.
Within minutes she returned with a tray of small crackers, cut up pepperoni and cheese, with some sort of dip in the center.
"Dig in!" She announced as she turned away to a nearby table. Before I could gather up some samples and dip, she turned back toward me to reveal that same melting smile, back-dropped by a now lit candle. She was setting the stage for round two.
12
Back to the Watering Hole
As it turned out the distraction from my new acquaintance, Joanne, accompanied by two bottles of grog and a candlelight atmosphere, was just what I needed to take my mind off of the boys, crows and Oak Orchard in general. By morning and well past rounds three and four, I had a whole new outlook on life. Not to mention some long overdue attention from the opposite sex.
As much as I wanted to discuss the revelation of young Johnnie Applegate"s fate and the boy in the back yard with the four leaf clover; better judgment now told me to leave it alone. I thanked Joanne for the lovely evening (to say the least) and the subsequent breakfast before heading back home to deal with more pressing issues. Her best impersonation of "Suzie Homemaker" had "come back soon" written all over it.
I rounded the corner to find a few long lost friends awaiting me. One a welcome sight, another a constant reminder of what a few hours back I had forgotten about.
"Where the hell have you been all night?" Mary shot at me as I stepped out of the truck to greet her. Her glare and tone told me I need be careful with my response, especially since 2 weeks had passed with no response from her nor my request for another draw on my money.
"Hello Mary, how are you?" The perturbed look on her face told me I wasn't getting off that easy.
"I got here around 9 last night and there were no lights on and no sign of your truck. I even went up to the Crows Nest looking for you." Her tone softened ever so slightly.
"Sorry I missed you Mary." With my best sincere voice, I calmly calculated my excuse for my absence.
"One of your neighbor's on the next street over asked me about a price for some work on her place. I went over after dinner and ending up talking for hours to her about back home. I ran out to the store early this morning."
I hated to lie, because I was not good at it, and it was not part of my nature. It was of course necessary in this case, so as not to give off the wrong impression that I was goofing off. Besides it was none of her business what I do in my spare time.
"So how is it going?" She turned to follow me as I had dutifully headed back inside.
"Real good Mary, lets take a look!" I was hoping that Mary's obsession to smoking pot might play a part in her quickly forgetting my disappearance last night.
"It's really coming together. The trim is almost done."
"Have you run into any problems?" she queried.
"God if you only knew!" Is all I could think about as I stood slack jawed staring like a zombie. I was afraid to answer, fearing that I might well blurt something out that I would later regret.
"Had she heard something?" I wondered.
Before I had much time to consider a response, she switched gears again.
"Did you have any problems taking the wallpaper off in here?"
At this point I realized that Mary in fact had others designs with her late arrival and search for me up the road. I had forgotten her forwardness from her last visit with all the other goings on here. Now it was apparent Mary wanted more then a business arrangement. It was time for some quick decisions.
"Mary, why were you looking for me that late. Is there a problem?" I put her on the defensive now.
"No, not at all, Sam. I thought that since it was still early enough, that we could have stopped by the Nest and have a couple of drinks and catch up on the job." Her smile revealed that she indeed wanted to catch up on something. I laughed to myself at her clumsy attempt at flirting. Mary wasn’t all that bad looking; a few extra pounds that’s all. But she was definitely not my type. Besides business and pleasure never mix well with the customer. I can't think of any better way to ruin a perfectly good business arrangement then to get involved. Next thing you know, the job is over and your last draw is on the line. The job was definitely more important to me then a roll in the hay with Mary. Besides, I had a new girlfriend, I mused.
"Sorry I missed you, Mary." I fumbled for a tone that sounded sort of interested but firm by the same token, so she would get the hint.
"How about lunch today? It was a compromise I could live with, sure that the middle of the day was safe harbor for any forthcoming flirtatiousness on her part.
"Sure that sounds good. Here's that check for another nine hundred dollars, right? I nodded as the long awaited draw was now firmly in my grip. The shallow smile that accompanied it was for her benefit not mine.
"See you around twelve, Mary?" I focused on her beaming eyes, as she agreed that at twelve o’clock, she would be here.
Besides the standard burger and fries that any respectable shot and beer place had to offer, the Nest had a fairly good menu for the lunch crowd. And this particular day, it was filled to capacity. It was as if the whole town came out to inspect me from a whole new perspective. In other words they knew there new resident had hit town and her lackey, namely me, would be on display for them to critique as the boss entertained with lunch.
"Hey Sam, the usual? And its Mary isn't it? Ray stepped up close for inspection with beer mug in tow and the towel over one shoulder. His shit eating grin was annoying, but in the same token, had that "good old boy" look to it. Besides we were friends of sorts now.
" The usual? Mary quipped as we settled onto the nearest stool to the door.
" Your fitting right in here, aren’t you Sam. You spending a lot of time up here?"
"Sure Ray. What are you having Mary?" I blew off both his grin and her comment with a professionalism that even "Tricky Dick would admire. That’s Nixon for all you who don't know who he is, or was that is. A smoke covered picture of former president Nixon hung over the doorway of the woman's room with a caption beneath that read, "NO ADMITTANCE." Somewhere back in his time, some joker from the Nest saw fit to hang it up there for the benefit of the craggy crowd to sneer and cajole over. Years later the newcomer's hardly recognized the face, let alone the name. Funny how in time, all remembrance of a person fades away. Even the famous ones. I paused in thought for a moment, wondering how long I would be remembered. The trance was interrupted again by the barkeep Ray.
" Your buddies been looking for you again." Ray announced as the drinks settled in front of us along with a dirty menu. I was afraid to ask which friends he had in mind, not wanting to open a can of worms with Mary at my flank. I gave Ray the stare so he would get the hint; but he wasn't going away that easy. Seems everyone in this damn town likes to stir up crap, especially for the newcomer. I was hoping the friend wasn't the damn crows he was referring to, and I would have to do some explaining about my actions and why the town knew my business already. Afraid to ask I looked up at Ray.
"What friend Ray? You know I have no friends." The constantly over attentive bar crowd let out a yelp with my comment.. I in turn shot a quick glance around the room as if to say, "fuck you too."
"Your buddy, Reddog, Ray gurgled, as he pulled on his own drink, that had been parked in a corner of the bar top. Poised for my answer, I fumbled with some change in front of me and looked down, hoping my answer would end this quickly.
"Not my buddy, Ray." I looked up and around quickly to reassure myself that Reddog was no where near, so that he might hear me. His presence had that sort of effect on anyone around these parts. Some in the room searched as well in case there attention to me was detected by the big Indian, though not present. Reddog had a way of bringing fear to some hearts, as his demeanor and size reflected.
"You mean that big Indian guy I see around here from time to time? Mary piped in as Ray opened his mouth to answer again.
"You have a customer, Ray" I pointed to the end of the bar as one of his cronies appeared for a refill, hoping the distraction would silence him.
"Yeah Mary, you know him?" Ray looked at Mary as he filled the draft back up. Then glanced at me with an ever widening grin. He knew he touched a nerve with me and that I was quickly feeling uncomfortable with this turn of conversation.
"Yeah, he's a scary looking guy. When I first bought the place he seemed to hang around the neighborhood. Every time I passed him on the street he gave me this eerie look as if he knew me or wanted something. A real weirdo!" Mary barked back down the room to Ray as he sauntered down to the other end.
That was just great, I thought, as now everyone was in on conversation. Another voice echoed from across the room.
"Remember when that kid got murdered?” I quickly looked in his direction forgetting for a moment about Mary and the crowd.
"What kid?" I snapped back.
The responses came from every direction as I tried to focus. Some muttered back and forth as others tried to talk over the noise of their neighbors. All the while, Mary studied me face while trying to interrupt the garble across the room. She wondered why I was so interested in some murdered kid and at the same time her interest was peaked as well; perhaps it was the troubled look now on my face as the room ventured its take on the matter. My mind in turn whirled as I tried in vain to catch a direct answer. Then all time seemed to come to a halt.
"They found the kid on Okemo, behind one of the older cottages!"
As that one voice rang clear, over the noise of the others, Mary’s concentration left my face to address the new revelation.
"Which house?" I turned now to study Mary's face. It was that horrified look one gets when they realize that trouble is knocking on their door. Similar to that late night phone call, from a long distant relative, announcing a death in the family. The knot in my stomach reached a breaking point, as surely, Mary’s' did too.
"Which house on Okemo was it? She assaulted the crowd with a sharp but weakened voice, not really wanting the answer.
For the most part, they already knew which house it had been. After all, this was Oak Orchard now wasn't it. Nothing escapes notice here, and we were, so to speak, at the town hall. They all knew for sure, except for perhaps the jerk who spilled his guts in the first place. They knew it was behind the house Mary had recently purchased, that the horrific slaughter occurred. The details of course left out at the time of sale. After all, who would want the place, had they known? There were enough weird happening in Oak Orchard, let alone this. And if any property were to be sold here, some things were better left alone, and not mentioned. After all this was Indian land. Sacred land to some. Sure years have pasted, but some things never die, or so they seem.
The room drew quiet, at Mary’s' inquiry, as all eyes now seemed to focus on us. No one wanted to break the news to her. The barkeep, Ray, rolled up close to take the glasses from our grasp once more. He paused for a second to gather in Mary's and my attention; fingered the glass so gently as in a drum roll, deciding if he, as the unofficial mayor, should break the news.
"What was it you were drinking?" He ventured, passing the ball back to her court and hoping his action would cause the subject to be dropped.
" Budweiser." I ventured as the knot that had formed in my stomach before the conversation went awry, now signaled for a full reverse gears of its contents.
"What the hell is with you people?" Mary barked, as her disdain for the locals became apparent. Now she directed her attack on the mayor himself.
"Which house are they talking about on Okemo? I want to know now!" Her face read like the directions on a box of fireworks. Proceed with caution, written all over it. Ray stepped back with the glasses to protect himself from any repercussion.
"There talking about your house, I think, Mary!" His tone now cautious.
It was the, I think, part that got me, because he of all people knew what the hell was going on here, for sure. But like everyone else, Ray wanted to cover his ass, since it remained his duty to break the news, as the town's official crier. Before I could make heads or tails of it, I found myself with a whole new dilemma, but perhaps, also a way to discuss some of the recent goings on with Mary, without telling the whole nine yards, so to speak. That is, without sounding like I had just escaped from some mental hospital. If I played my cards right I could use Mary as my mouth piece to find out what I was missing in this puzzle.
"What happened to the kid ,Ray?" I queried as Ray retreated to the tap, drew the grog, and returned avoiding eye contact with Mary and happy that I had taken up the task of prosecutor.
"Use to be this nice kid around the neighborhood that stayed with his grandmother over the summer months. Her daughter was getting a divorce and it was a likely place for him while she sorted it out. He was always searching the neighborhood for four leaf clovers, and many times would be found pawing threw the grass, in some neighbors yard, searching. About 5 years ago one night, he didn’t show up for supper. The grandmother who had a broken hip on the mend, hollered for him out the door, but couldn't muster up the strength to go looking for him. He had always come home at dinner time, sometimes a bit late, but none the less made it home. Usually with a handful of clovers. After a few hours she called over to State Police, and some neighbors formed a search party. It wasn't too long after, that they found the kid behind a shed. He had been badly beaten with what was later determined to be an hatchet and appeared to have been molested." Ray paused to now take in Mary's reaction and anticipate her next question. But she sat silent, as if in disbelief.
"That’s why the house sold so cheap , Mary." Ray softly spoke as if to console her, as tears now formed in her eyes.
"I want to leave." Mary requested, as she lifted herself off the stool and grabbed her purse.
You could hear a pin drop, as the locals within earshot of Ray took in the whole conversation. I am not sure if it was total grief or if some embarrassment added to that, drove Mary. However the fact remained that we both needed to get the hell out of the Crows Nest.
The ride back to Okemo was a silent one. Both our minds searching for answers and questions, but no one wanting to really know right now. As we pulled into the driveway I could see a new look upon Mary's face. The once admired new home now seemed like a haunted house to her. If she only knew!
"It will be alright Mary!" I sheepishly offered support.
With those words, Mary folded into full blown tears and into my arms, as the stark reality hit home. I held her tight not knowing what the hell to say next as what seemed like hours passed with her sobbing. There were no words to say, after all. Its not every day you buy a house, only to find out later, there was a horrible murder that took place there.
---------------------------------------------
My mind drifted back and forth between the dead kid and the boy I met in the back yard. The two Indian boys that appeared to follow me throughout Oak Orchard and the voice of the father, who insisted, I was the one who was here to settle all matters. He hadn't told me about another murder. Nor had I been in a dream state when I saw young Johnnie Applegate in the back yard. I didn't imagine the four leaf clovers nor was I seeing things. But I did and now what started out as a complex state of affairs just got terribly worse for me. I didn't dare tell Mary about the rest of the story out of fear she would not only abandon the project, but the house too.
Someone knew more about this whole mess. Whether it was Ray, the locals, or if I needed to go back to the Thinking Tree, to find my answers. The Thinking Tree seemed the best answer since we were not dealing with normalcy here. I kept wondering why they never found the nut that did this. Was he still around these parts waiting to kill again. The fact that I knew about many things made me feel very uneasy. Maybe I might wake up to find an axe handle being buried in my head as well. The sickness in my stomach had enough. I let go of Mary and turned as the full contents of my stomach launched to the ground.
"I'm sorry Mary!" I spoke as another round vaulted from my mouth.
Mary now switched gears from being the target of ridicule and surprise to one of a comforter as she offered help to here sick contractor. No doubt she wondered why I was the one getting sick instead of her but offer no such questions.
Chapter 13 "The Thinking Tree"
Mary had left for home again and I had collected my money. Not much was said between us after the incident at the Nest I was in shock as much as Mary over the whole ordeal. I would have been nice to have spoken to someone about the goings n here, but as it were I was alone. I was alone in thought, alone in wonder and alone in answers. The night was to be a night of questions to be answered. A time for explanations from the only source I knew to find them. The weeks I had spent in Oak Orchard had been a time that my whole belief system about how life worked was brought into question. First with the voice from beyond the grave which at first I thought might be demons playing with my head. Because as far as I believed the dead were just that dead in the ground. It was the end of the matter. Once you were dead you couldn't speak any more. Their was no more thought process after death. No shadowy spirit person lurking around after death. The dichotomy of all the happenings here were more then anyone could bear. But it was my inquisitive nature that drove me. It was my basic make up to find an answer for the things that I did not know or believe in, to disprove them or find some logical explanation. However this was beyond all realms of beliefs culture, and reason I had come to know.
Copper colored sky replaced the azure blue as I sat on the back steps, chain smoking my Pall Malls until my cigarette butts resembled a parade of caterpillars on the patio below my feet. I awaited the night like a vampire, yet as scared as a young kid , afraid of the dark. As the darkness slowly closed its eyes to kiss the leaves goodnight, I knew that that soon the questions swimming in my head might soon be answered. I had waited patiently until now to see how things would fall into place , but I was growing tired of waiting, wondering and hoping this nightmare of sorts would end. Instead it grew more and more complicated with each passing day. As the setting sun breached the horizon, familiar sounds caressed my ears. In the distance, the night air still; the sound of waves gently lapping the shore rattled small shells. The house was dark without furniture or lamps. Only the kitchen light provided a pathway for my sight. I fumbled for the kitchen light switch until the 60 watt bulb flickered a bit then lit up the room like a small campfire The close areas illuminated while the couch, tools and duffel bag in the living room were barely silhouetted by the meager bulb.
Spring peepers serenaded me with song along with a few crickets that had survived the winter cold. Although the cheerful sounds reminded me of the newness of life that come with Spring, the house it self seemed like such a sad place. Here I was fixing up this old dump for someone elses happiness. Yet if the walls could talk they would tell of a place filled with secrets, mystery and anguish. I had come here thinking the change would do me good from the emptiness that I was feeling grow back home.
Off in the distance I heard a too familiar sound saying goodnight to me. One I had become well acquainted with now. Caw, Caw, goodnight Sam he said. My feathered messengers became friends to me and led me in the directions I needed to go. A certainty now overwhelmed me as his call reminded me of why I was here. It was indeed time to ask much needed questions to the Creator. The voice that held all secrets and answers.
Like the cold harsh reality of lost love, I sat perched here, cigarette in hand; pinched the ash off and stomped it into the patio. Looking toward the setting sun, whose last rays flickered away to invite the night, I hoped that somehow all this was not so. Just a bad dream that soon I would awaken from, sigh deeply and chuckle at the insanity of it all, like the way you react to most awakening from nightmares. But like a lover who is finally gone for good, reality sinks in deep. There are no more tears, only the harsh reality that they are gone. The conclusion of the matter finished for good. But that was not the case with this strange new culture that although I belonged to ages past, I knew very little at all about. What has driven me though was what the Father told me in the beginning. To reach inside and feel the things that once were a reality to my ancestors.. They were a part of me, though forgotten long ago by past generations.
The couch seemed so inviting yet at the same time represented a place where sleep escaped me many nights as the whole surreal happening became reality as I awoke. I once more unconsciously tumbled the two ever present stones and thought of the four leaf clover tucked away in a clear window section of my wallet. They were the cement that held together this whole mystery along with my feathered reminders that greeted me each morning and said goodnight for the past several weeks now. My sleep would be short tonight, there was no doubt.
I pondered the idea of just going to the tree without being awakened once again into crystalline surrounding and wandering the neighborhood like some zombie out of a bad horror movie. I wondered what the neighbors would think seeing me at all hours walking around the neighborhood or at the tree. Was anyone aware of my presence or was I as invisible to them as this kid Applegate was, with the exception of me alone. This kid that appeared to me was no doubt the same missing kid 5 years back. It was the same backyard where he was found in a mangled state stripped of all dignity by some monster that perhaps still lurked this sleepy, bizarre town.
Soon I hoped this would all come to an end. Perhaps a happy ending for everyone, but how was the big question in my mind right now. How was it that I was to settle the matter about the two sons and now this whole new problem, namely the boy in the backyard. There had to be someone I could talk to about it without stirring up suspicion.
"God Sam! Someone might think I had something to do with that kid, after all how would that sound if I were to tell someone that I had seen him very much alive And how was it I knew so much being a stranger to the area?" These thought and other helped me conclude that it was only by some divine intervention that this whole thing would be over with and I could go home again, hopefully with a sane mind and a clear conscience." I thought long and hard as I slowly secreted myself into the comfort of the cushions.
Once more I pondered approaching the tree on my own, but then again it was not the way things happened around here. It was for my own protection I guess that I fell into a dream state and let the Father direct my steps. Of this I was sure. Maybe I never even left the house at all during these late night ventures.. I kicked of my boots, rolled back the sleeping bag and took one more look around the room to perhaps reassure myself that I would return in one piece, sound in mind after what was surely going to be a long night. I decided to pray tonight.
"Dear Father, Great Creator of all that is and will be, hear my voice. You have directed my steps onto this path and into your hands I followed and listened. Tonight hear my prayers and direct my footsteps once more into your place which holds the answers I so long and need. I am weak in both belief and spirit but I pray you will supply me with courage and make my wobbly feet strong as a stag. Give me wisdom and understanding and help this come to a conclusion. Supply me with what I lack and walk me through this trouble, protecting me. I want to be your vessel to be used as you have saw fit. Protect me from harm and bless my faithfulness."
I had drifted off to sleep once again sure that I would find myself once again transformed and wandering down toward the tree into the night.
"Awake my son, it is time. Go to the tree for your questions. But be careful what you ask for."
The crystalline room brought a deep feeling of peacefulness to me as I rose obedient once more to venture toward the tree. My two playful dancers awaited me outside the front door as we greeted and walked toward the place where answers lie. Where knowledge abounded. Where hope and power existed.
As I approached the tree my two companions, danced away into the night, although I knew they were not far off
as I could hear their voices in the distance, somewhere along the shore whose constant music of shells caressing the shore with each passing wave. The night was silent as I settled onto the arms that had held me and my attention several times before. What seemed like hours passed with no voice to guide me, no instructions entered my mind. only the pale, tranquil night.
I rose to hug the grandfather tree, pulled a cigarette from my pack and emptied the tobacco into my hand. I offered up a prayer once again and spread them onto the ground, and once again took up station onto my perch.
"My son, what is troubling you? It is the boy that vexes your heart is it not?"
"Yes Great One, hear my prayers and supplication once again. Replace my fears and troubled heart with much needed answers and give me direction to accomplish your will.. I humble present myself to do your will Great One."
" Before the next full moon all will come to completion. All will be made right again. Make no mention or inquiries to anyone. Let my hand direct you, let me mouth speak through yours. You will know when the time has come to speak because the crows will summon you. Your heart will feel deeply my thoughts as it will burn inside you until you have to speak out. Have no fears that you yourself will come under suspicion. You are the vessel and have come here to do my will. Be obedient and watch the power that your forefathers knew so well. It will by your hand that this will all come to pass now. The answers will come to you now. You have no need to search for them."
"Go an find your rest, for tomorrow you will not work but instead I will lead you to the place you must go. You will meet someone who you can trust and it will be then that you will know when to speak."
Chapter 14 “Gone Fishing “
The sun rose a little earlier with each passing day as the job drew closer to an end. I hadn’t figured on staying this long, but with the additional work and the strange happenings, I wasn’t ready to leave yet either.
I rose off the musty couch that had become my place of rest for weeks, slipped on my work clothes and laced up my boots. I was determined to be productive since yesterday, with Mary’s appearance and the nightmare luncheon affair, had proved to be a wasted day.
As I searched the few cabinets the kitchen had to offer, for my instant coffee, I couldn’t help but notice that my boots were a bit wet. I unscrewed the jar and threw two tablespoons full into my cup and again gazed at my shoes.
Not everything was clear the morning after a sleep walking journey. But it always quickly returned to me like a large wave crashing down on the beach.
His morning was no exception as last night’s conversation came back to e.
“Great, I have no work again today!” I threw the spoon into the sink, snatched up the cup in disgust and gulped down some lukewarm coffee. I hated hot coffee for two reasons. It took too long to drink and too long to start working if you drank it hot. I needed to kick into full throttle in the morning to get going right away.
The thought of losing another day of work bothered me to no end. I was obsessive in some ways when it came to my focus on things, namely work.
“But this is what you wanted Sam, answers!”
The cup settled a little off center to the counter and fell into the sink as I walked toward the front door. No idea where I was going or who I was to meet, just a certainty like the certainty of all that had happened. A friend awaited me outside.
“How’d I guess?” The crow on the hood of my truck was unmoved by my semi-perturbed and amused outburst. He dipped his head in my direction as if to say “good morning” and flew off to a nearby branch up the street.
I stood in the doorway for a few seconds as a million thoughts past by. Strange, the crow hadn’t made a sound.
“Aren’t you going to say Hi?” I shouted across to him with no more response then to ruffle his feathers. His reaction seemed to say “get your ass in gear, Sam, I’m ready.”
I sank back into the doorway and reached for my keys parked on a makeshift table of card board boxes. I stared around the room as if searching for something else. But that something else lies ahead of me. I knew it but was searching for a reason to stay. There was no reason; this was why I was here. Not this remodeling job. I was meant to come here on this tiny piece of earth in this tiny little village in this whole damn universe. I was here at this particular place and at this particular time. There was no escape from all this. It was as if it was all determined before I was even born. I wondered was everything that we say or do predetermine by some cosmic force or entity.
It was really a very disheartening thought to me. All I could think about was, what about free will?
I stepped out onto the driveway and looked for my tour guide.
“Hey, I changed my mind. You go on without me.” I smirked at the thought but the smile left my face as the front door shut and locked behind me.
“OK, OK, I’m going.”
The truck roared to attention as I ordered it into gear and quickly left Okeima behind as I followed the crow now stationed directly in front of me as I drove down the road… Thoughts of the crow, the front door closing, and where the hell we were headed swirled in my head. A loud sound shook me to my senses.
“Asshole!” The driver of the other car yelled as he passed on my left and I careened back into the right lane where I should have been.
“Fucking crows!” I once again scanned the sky for my guide. It was in fact my own fault for not paying attention as my mind drifted from one thought to another as the truck barreled down the road.
Another ¼ of a mile down the road and no crow in sight, I decided that I was somehow lost. So I pulled into the driveway that was all too familiar to me. It was the same boat yard and dock where I had found Reddog working, with the same lazy dog stationed out front of the entrance.
The crow stood in the middle of the driveway, cawed loudly to me and flew off. I had arrived at my destination I was sure. Easing the shifter out of reverse and back into forward, I slowly crept down the drive. One eye was on the now distant crow and the other on the boat yard up ahead of me. The same barrel sat with another motor in it as the mechanic made his way toward the dock where a 36’ work boat awaited at the pumps for fuel.
I exited the truck within earshot of the mechanic as he wiped the grease from his hands, looked over his shoulder at me and returned to greet his customer.
“Hey Tommie boy, how the hell are ya?” The attendants hand seemed dwarfed by the meat hook that shot out from over the gunnels to meet his. If a grizzly bear could captain a fishing boat, then I could accurately describe the man behind the massive paws that were attached to his tree trunk arms. He was may be 6’ 5” tall, coal black hair and beard, with a smile that was contagious. He didn’t appear to be the sort you might find around docks or boats but rather something more like the Northwest in a lumber town. Perhaps even a trapper from back in the old days. Matter of fact he had Paul Bunyan written all over him as I approached the two men gathered around the pumps.
“This your new help? He boomed as I approached.
The mechanic took one more look my way, shrugged his shoulders and replied to Tom.
“Some damn friend of that Indian I guess!”
“By the way where is that no good help of yours? Tom queried as he eyed my up for size.
“Who, Reddog?” I tried to seem as if I belonged both here and in their conversation. They both eyed me carefully now as my foot hit the dock and I slid closer.
“I told you he knows him.” The old salt continued to pump as the captain now stepped over onto the dock from his deck. His size now became even more apparent as I drew near and extended my hand to introduce myself.
“Sam.” He looked at my hand for a brief second before grabbing it for the formality.
“Tom. I’m Captain Tom to you my friend.” His grip was incredible; with you don’t even want to mess with me written all over it.
“Don’t have to break it Tom. I need it to work.” I instructed as he slowly let go of his grip.
“Ha, ha, you’re a flatlander are ya.?” It was a joke so I laughed along with him.
“So Reddog’s your buddy is he?” My hand remained in mid air as I answered back uncontrollably.
“Fuck you too, Tom!” I ventured a weak smile realizing the mistake might turn ugly quick.
“Ha, ha, I like this guy.” Tom turned and slapped the attendant on the back, almost sending him of balance.
“You wanna go fishing, flatlander?” His eyes seemed to twinkle like some old Saint Nick in a way that mad e you feel instantly at ease.
“The name is Sam, Tom!”
“Ha, ha, well you wanna go or are you afraid of the water flatlander?”
“That’s $98.50 you squid, pay up!” The mechanic threw the nozzle into the pump and extended his hand. Tom reached for his wallet that was stretched well out of shape from the money it held; snapped a crisp $100.00 bill from it and spoke as he handed it over.
“Keep the change you poor excuse for a deck hand.” Tom roared.
“Fuck you too Tom.” He snapped the money up and returned up to the boathouse, as Tom turned with as serious a look as he could muster, toward me and said.
“He’ll sink your boat at night if you don’t pay him. Ha!”
“Your damn right I will now get the hell off my dock, both of ya.” The attendant had earned the right for the last word. It was after all his dock.
“Grab the line flatlander and get aboard.” He barked as he engaged the twin diesels back into service. The sound of both motors jumping to attention in unison as the water behind the boat gurgled from the exhaust signaled that it was a sound boat with plenty of muscle. The boat ambled away from the pier as Captain Tom wheeled away at the helm, looking much like something out of the African Queen with the hat he wore.
“Where we going, captain?” I tried to shout over the steady drone of the twin diesels as I eased closer to the wheelhouse where he stood. After all I was trapped as it were on this boat with my new found friend destinations unknown.
“B buoy, about 12 miles out! I got some lobster pots to pull out there.”
“I thought we were going fishing?”
“Well first things first!” Tom shouted as he slapped the top of his GPS sitting on the dashboard.
“Damn technology. It isn’t worth a shit!” The numbers illuminated the screen once more as we passed the inlet heading for open waters.
Tom throttled up the motors to 25 knots and set it on autopilot before exiting the wheelhouse. His paw into the right pocket of his oversized bib overalls now screaming at Order of Words (consider revising), withdrew a pocket knife and an apple from the other.
“Want some?” Tom waved the knife my way after slipping a piece into his jaws.
“No thanks, Tom.” I steadied myself against the gunnels as the boat plowed through 4 foot swells with ease.
“So tell me Sam, why are you here?” His face took on a blank look but yet his stare penetrated me for answers.
“Not sure Tom, you tell me.”
“Ha!” He grunted as another sliver of apple greeted the bearded opening.
“Okay Sam. I saw you in a dream last night! Saw your face and heard your voice. I knew you were going to come here and we would meet today. So here we are.”
“Do you know why, Tom?” I steadied my legs as I peered into his black eyes.
“Sure I do, Sam. I’m a seer. He turned to check his heading in the wheelhouse as I steadied my thoughts as well.
“Look, my great-great grandfather was Acacian, and his wife was Cherokee. They settled in lower Virginia after the Acadians were forced from Maine. He went south where he met his wife, while the rest made their way to Louisiana They took up with the Nanticoke’s up here in Delaware before they were dispersed and joined in with the Leni-Lenape and others. They were held in high respect because of the visions that they had. That is why they were called ‘seers.’ It is a gift from the Great One given only to a chosen few. In dreams the saw great things before they were to take place or given instruction to give to others.”
“What did you see about me, Tom?” The motor strained a bit as the seas deepened to 5 or 6 foot swells. Tom studied my face as if to find some doubt.
“I saw crows leading you about and many people with bad feelings toward you. I saw two boys dancing around you as you walked and saw a third boy handing you something. Then the crows flew off into blackness. I felt deep sorrow because the crows left the boys behind. I knew what it meant. I could feel your pain also and why you were here. You have two stones in your pocket, don’t you Sam? One is black the other white.”
“Yes, but what do they mean?”
“They represent life and death. It is in the balance right now. It is in your hands this balance. You are in fact holding judgment. Tell me about your visions Sam?”
I thought we were supposed to be going fishing.” I pulled back as Tom fondled the controls to a halt in the wheelhouse a, then abruptly turned back my way.
“No Sam, you’re here just like I am here, to talk about this!”
“Why the hell is there all this mystery and drama? I just wanted some damn answers. I never asked for all this crap at all. Just came down here to….”
“Ha, ha, ha” Tom broke into laughter again.
“What the hell is so funny to you, Tom?”
“You Sam, You don’t believe do you?” His massive hands grabbed the support beams of the cabin as his beady eyes drilled into me.
“You’re so wrapped up in what you think you believe is truth and tradition but you forgot your heritage didn’t you?”
“I didn’t come here for a lecture, Pal!” My arrogance took over any fears I had from this Grizzly bear of a man.
“No you came for answers.” Tom’s voice took on a softened tone now.
“Sam you’re a seer as well. But more important you have a hand in the whole outcome it seems. You have been chosen. I saw it in the dream. You were at a sacred tree and being given instruction t by the Great One himself! That my friend does not happen very often to seer’s or even medicine men or anyone else for that matter unless there is something very special that is about to happen. Only you and you alone can finish what has started here.
“This is so fucked up! I came here to fix a house and now I have to fix the whole damn town, great!”
“No Sam, only the difference of life and death.” Tom reassured.
“Oh that’s all huh Tom?” Well hell let me just rub the stones, make a wish and throw them into the sea.
I’ll go home and everyone lives happily ever after, how about that?”
“No Sam, the stones must have a special resting place. They are to be given to someone.”
“I tried that already so don’t tell me about that. Ok?” My face was no doubt as red as a tomato.
“You’re not listening to me, Sam. I heard part of your prayer you asked at the tree. You asked for direction, didn’t you?” Tom looked on in earnest.
“How the hell could you have known that?” My look of bewilderment probably was what led Tom to laugh.
“I’m a seer Sam. And for that matter, so are you.” His smile warmed me as I looked at my boots again and the outline of the stains from the journey the night before. I met his gaze.
“All right then, tell me Tom!”
“Give me a minute Sam.” Tom returned to the wheelhouse to check how far we had drifted, turned the motors back to life and wheeled back toward shore.
“Now where are we going, Tom?” I shifted my foothold to secure stability.
“Home Sam., were going back. I only came here so we could talk. The dreams are real to me. You want this to all end, then you need to start taking this seriously!” I wanted to spout out that I had been serious about the whole thing. How the hell could I ignore dead kids dancing around and disappearing boys in the back yard? Before I let loose Tom broke in again.
“Tell me about the two boys?” Tom stationed himself upon oversized bait cooler and folded his hands like a pair of baseball mitts. In turn I found another cooler close by and joined him.
“I started having these dreams and hearing a voice talk to me. They started soon after I started the job. It was some father of the boys and he told me how they had come to be murdered and that their murderer was never found so that their spirits were trapped here. He told me that I was meant to come here to settle all these mess so to speak. Then another day I hear something in the back yard and there is this kid sitting there looking for four leaf clovers. Next thing I know he’s not real but dead also. So I have stones, clovers, and crows following me. I sleep walk and I can’t tell anyone about the whole damn thing or they’ll think I am nuts. Maybe I am who knows. So here we are. Now you sitting here telling me it’s all ok and that I am some damn seer!”
“Sam, Sam, calm down will ya? Your part Native American aren’t you? Then why the hell won’t you listen to me? You’re so wrapped up in your new beliefs that you forget the old ones, your forefathers. Let it go for a minute. Can’t you see it is real? I had just one dream but have had many Sam. How could I even know about what happened to you if we never even met? How could I see these things that happened to you if it is not true?”
I looked into Tom for the longest time and out toward the horizon as well. I had no good answers for him. My mind swirled because despite my stubbornness it was indeed very real. I knew it. That was why I jumped on board in the first place. So why was I fighting it, fighting the truth. It was what I had asked for, prayed for. I left the job because I did believe that this was very real. I was fighting the reality, a reality that was a far fetched to the imagination as it gets but at the same time as real as it gets.
“OK, Tom. I believe you.. Tell me more of what you saw in your dream?”
“I saw someone running away. They changed shapes many times but could not get away from here. They became deer and an osprey, a fox and an eagle. But none provided a way of escape. In our culture they are called shape shifters. I believe this is the one you must find to put an end to this. You must give the stones to him.
“Great, now I have to chase animals?” I was making light of the matter but trying to be serious. Tom was somewhere else.
“Tom! Are you with me? Tom!!” His face and voice took on an odd look. He was somewhere else besides this boat.
“Tom, I want to get back. How long will it take?” I had hoped that my comment would pull Tom from the trance he seemed to be in. He stared at me for a few more seconds like he didn’t know me. Then finally smiled and laughed.
“Ha, Ha, sure thing Sam, were going home.”
Chapter 15 Recollections 2519
The past three days were an emotional roller coaster for me. Young Johnie Applegate turned out to be an aberration. Joann was a pleasant distraction from the whole mess and well Mary; she is just Mary! Captain Tom was a source of inspiration and at the same time scary. It seems the longer I am here in this place the more involved it gets. No matter how much I try to figure out, it keeps getting better. There are times I swear that I wish I were just in John's office and cracking jokes about dumb shit instead of this fiasco. But then again, I wonder why I have thought all along that life was so simple and not full of surprises?
Joanne was indeed a pleasant surprise and after all the mayhem, I found my mind drifting back to her smile and remembering her warm touch, her skin against mine. The pleasant aroma of body heat and contact, laced with passion and intimacy. Her scent like fresh cut flowers brought back memories of better times in my life.
May be John Pennelli was right after all. May be it was time to forget the past and move on, even start over again and take that chance. God, Sam, you are so pathetic. Nevertheless, being alone does have advantages you know. For instance, I could put my clothes in the hamper when I felt like it! Go have a beer with the guys or girls anytime I felt like it. Hell, I could even leave the toilet seat up all the time, until it froze into place there! I could take the trash out when I was damn ready. Moreover, blast my favorite ZZ Top music until the paint fell off the walls. If I felt like wearing the same old clothes, I could do that until they stood up in the corner by themselves, who would be there to say anything. I could smoke too much, drink too much and eat all the crappy food I wanted, with no one to tell me what time to be home or how much money I should spend and on what.
But then again, nothing beats a warm body next to you: soft skin against skin; with a meaningful smile and a look in their eyes that says, "Hey you are pretty special to me". There is nothing better then coming through that door at the end of the day and there they are waiting for you with open arms. There is nothing like being waited on hand and foot, and pampered when you are a little under the weather and then play it out for all the attention you can get. Sure, they know you are not that sick, especially when you get a little horny and try to get friendly. First thing out of their mouth, am "I thought you were sick?" It is funny because my response usually was something to the effect like, " Yeah I'm sick, but I'm not dead yet." I guess there is a lot said about living alone. Nonetheless, being lonely, now that really sucks!
I had always been somewhat of a free bird I guess. I never liked just fitting into the same mold as everyone else. I could remember my dad with his words of wisdom as I was growing up. He was a simple man with not a lot of education, but he could peg any of life’s problems with just a few simple words. He was a sharecropper’s son and worked hard in the fields all his childhood along with his dad. He would often tell me that I could be anything I wanted to be as long as I set my mind to it. However, more importantly, he would say, “Be you.”
When I was young, I took that to some extremes when in school. For instance if I did not want to do something, I would argue with my teachers about it. If I wanted to be a mathematician or a scientist, I would apply myself but as it were, I knew I was not so why do the homework, etc. I felt good about my attitude toward life however misguided I took dad's advise. After all, I was just being myself. That was until I got tired of flunking and going to summer school while my friends did other things. Well so much for what dad told me about being myself. By tenth grade, I found a happy medium. Just shut up, do the work and get school over.
Dad was a simple country boy, but I admired him in every way, especially being the kind of father he was. He was gentle, kind and firm. I could look back and laugh now about the times he would discipline me. He would take me out back and I had the choice of which branch to pick to be the switch. He would set me down beside him and pull out his penknife. As he began whittling so did his words of wisdom and instruction as to why I was about to meet this or that fate. He took me through the whole gambit about why later in life I would need his words. By the time, he had perfected the switch with a small twig or leaf at the end. I was already in tears. I was sorry for what I had done and was promising never to do it again. Most times pop never had to light into me with that switch. I think it was his gentle spirit inside that knew it was more important to get the point across then the beating itself. I forget how hard it hurt when he did but one thing for sure; I never forgot a word he said.
I also remember him telling stories about the old days and our ancestors. Showing pictures of great-grand pop and grand mom, the full-blooded Blackfoot women great grand pop married , with tales of the old west, when the tribes were sent to Oklahoma to be resettled. However, I really knew little about my heritage to speak of until I came to Oak Orchard. This place was a revelation for sure.
Perhaps John was right. I had become very gun-shy after my divorce had ended. Perhaps it was time to give it a shot again. After work today, I would pay Joann another visit.
The air was still and cold, the house having no working heater and so the couch was a warm substitute for woman’s body. It was well past 6 am and I had laid here much longer then usual with all these thoughts of past times as well as the meeting of Captain Tom and the boat ride. I laid there trying to digest his words much like dads. Why I had been so stubborn about the whole affair was beyond me. After all, it was a fact that I wanted to know about Oak Orchard. The mystery surrounding this place, the people and my happenings intrigued me while scaring me at the same time. Sure, I had not chosen this course nor decided to live it. I fought it tooth and nail until in the end, I wanted concrete answers. The thoughts danced around in my head just like the boys that accompanied me every night I left the place, dancing around me in some magical dream. Answers now were what I wanted and about to be revealed. How long would this go on? I rose off the couch and headed for the kitchen.
I fired up the stove for some hot coffee to shake off the morning chill. Before too long, I was parading around the house on an inspection tour, recalculating in my mind a plan of action for the day. After days not working, the once familiar place appeared foreign to me. There were things missed here and there with the trim as if I had been distracted and moved to another task. Too many loose ends it seemed. Not the way I worked. But then again this was not your usual job.
Within a half an hour the saw once again was humming, the nails penetrating wood and the measuring tape flying in and out of my tool pouch. I was back into full stride by lunchtime and the unfamiliar surrounding disappeared. My brain was back into overdrive and calculating the next move and the next and so on. I heard what sounded like a faint knock on the front door and stuck my head out the front window to check.
"Hey there, how are you Joanne?" Her eyes drifted skyward as her smile widened accordingly.
"Hi Sam, how are you?" My grin took on a Cheshire cat as I found myself once again fumbling for the right words. Why, I have no idea.
"Good, you’re looking good this morning." It was afternoon by now but who cared.
"It’s afternoon I believe, Sam!” She corrected me.
"Wait, I will be right down." The tool belt settled onto the floor as I made my way to the front door. I was glad to see her again but after 3 days and no work, I had wished she had come later in the day. Mostly because I knew how easily, she could distract me.
She wore an old pair of jeans that hugged her hips like paper mache glued to a form. Every detail of her form silhouetted against fabric. Her tight powder blue sweater was even more appetizing. I approached with caution much like a deer hunter closing in, not wanting to spook his prey and scare it off. She was neither prey nor I predator, but much the same I did not want to say or do anything to scare her off. After all she was quite interesting, not to mention very passionate in bed as well.
"Hey come on in." She smiled as she stepped through the doorway and into the living room slash dining room. Her eyes caught the first prominent thing in the room, the couch.
"Is this where you sleep?” The sleeping bag in disarray was a dead give away.
"Yep, home sweet home." I laughed a little uncomfortable because of the surrounding mess that accompanied my den. Thoughts of how great it was to be single and do what you wanted, seemed stupid to me all of a sudden, as I tried to focus her attention away from my sloppy bachelor pad. First impression I guess. I laughed aloud as we turned and walked toward the kitchen.
"What’s so funny, Sam? She wanted me to let her in on my laugh. I hesitated to reveal my rational previously determined and laughed again.
"Nothing really, just embarrassed that you see me at my worst." I still did not make much sense.
"I was lying here earlier thinking how great it is being single as opposed to being with someone and all the things I can do with someone to." I stopped short as her face showed signs that I was not heading in her direction.
"I mean the pros and cons of living alone versus having someone you care about and care about you." Her smile slowly widened again.
"Do you know what I am trying to say? Never mind just forget it." Now she laughed.
"Ha-ha, no tell me more. I am all ears." She was amused at my tripping feet conversation.
"Oh you’re more then all ears sweetie." My seedy grin took over while trying to desperately to get off the subject for the time being.
“Now now Sam, Be nice." Her head dipped ever so slightly to give that shy little innocent girl look. That body language that tells it all.
"I am being nice. It was a compliment." Dads voice echoed into the back of my brain with his words of just are you Sam. I was not so sure who the hell I was at this moment. The girl had my head whirling in no time flat.
"If I knew you were coming I would have cleaned up a bit, you know?" So much for deer hunting, I thought as I waited for her next question.
"Oh Sam, now your acting silly, it’s a job and I would expect it to look this way." She laughed and looked toward the kitchen as if to let me off the hook. I sighed a bit of relief as she turned back and flung her arms around my neck, piercing me with those big, brown, beautiful eyes.
"You miss me?" Her eyes roved back and forth from my eyes to my lips. She was not wasting any time here.
"Oh course I do." I muttered in a low tone as my lips greeted hers. The kiss melted my anxiousness into thin air. For a moment time stopped again, as it did the first time we kissed. I forgot Oak Orchard, the boys, crows and the whole nine yards. I was somewhere else.
"Mmm, that's nice. Can I have another?" Her warm hands on the back of my neck were like a magnet in a scrape yard, pulling my metal closer to a lock hold.
"I think I can spare another one for you." I spoke in a soft but slightly cocky tone.
"Oh, it is like that huh? Playing hard to get?" Before I could answer, she put another lip lock on me.
"You will give me all I want Mr.!" Her voice was self-assured and she knew her charm was well in control of me. God I was so easy I though or desperate. Before I could make up my mind, she pulled away.
"Show me the rest of the place." She said.
What place, was all I could think of as she overwhelmed me inside. Joanne would be something else I would have to deal with after the dust settled here. I smiled and told her sure, as I made my way toward the stairs. The cramped stairwell was tight because the headroom not anywhere near code as we traveled up them.
"Watch your head, and be careful of the pieces of wood lying around. I wouldn't want you to trip or get hurt."
"You will catch me if I fall won't you Sam?" Her head made the same little bobble as she smiled at her own innocence. She knew she was in control and I was the one being lead not her. We reached the top of the steps and onto the hallway, she leap into my arms again for another embrace.
"Nice place you got here Sam." Her impish smile had me looking around the room as if a bed were readily available at our disposal. However, the drywall dust and loose trim everywhere dismissed any notion of even throwing her to the floor to have my way. Not that she would probably mind I thought.
"Wow, you do nice work. I see you are good at many things. Must be those magic hands of yours huh Sam? Ha-ha.
"Now, now Joanne, be nice." I grabbed her and pulled her close as we both let out a laugh. God this felt so good.
Chapter 16
"Whispers"
The cool evening air rolled in past the window sill of the small bedroom above the quaint eclectic living room below. The soft music of blues still fresh in my ears as my eyes tried to focus on where I was. A bottle or perhaps two of wine left me off guard. Joanne had been a pleasant host as usual and even more when the wine kicked in. We tumbled our way to the loft size bedroom and made love for what seemed hours. Truth only known, I was probably was only good for about ten minutes. No matter, the deed done, everyone happy I fell asleep. A weird thought crossed my mind as I awoke, not sure if it was me or her. But something was definitely different. In the background I could hear a faint voice. A familiar voice. Calling my name.
"Sam, awake! There is much to do. The wind calls you, Sam. Go to the tree my son. Awake and walk the walk with your sons and your ancestors."
I laid there for what seemed hours as my mind tried desperately to focus on what was real and what was not. I sat up and looked about the room. Close to me was someone but I could not make out who. I knew it was her but something was wrong again. The dreams were just at my house! Not here and not now. The room grew crystalline, as colors swirled about the room. The voice was unnerving. There was no doubt what was happening again, just why and where I was. This was something new and unexpected. The voice called out again.
" Sam, Onaquacome, the one who was meant to come here. Stand up my son, and go to your brothers and sons and family. There is much more to know now. The sacred tree awaits you."
"Look and listen. The crow calls for you in the night."
The dead silence of the night seemed unending. I wanted to crawl up next to my lover; wrap my arms around her and fall back where I came from, heaven. But the night air boasted a voice. One I had heard many times. Off in a branch, at a distance, the soft call beckoned me.
"Caw Caw Caw." It was like a bugle call in the army. A awake up call of some god forsaken drunken sentry playing taps.
The combination of wine and great sex, had me confused to begin with. Now the dream state added to it. In a strange way though I seemed to be sobering up at the same time as being launched into the other world.
"Onaquacome my son. You can follow or be led, but the path for you has been set. There is more here then your spirit. The ways of your knowledge and understanding are not what is the truth. What has started will finish. Not in your frame of time or mind but mine."
"Walk with me now and listen."
This could not be happening to me. Not here and not now was all I could think of as I slowly sat up in bed. The thought never occurred to me that this would happen outside of the realm of the house I had been working on. None the less it was and my head whirled with every kind of "what if" scenario played out. I couldn't begin to tell Joanne what had happened to me since arriving in Oak Orchard. Not the two Indian boys, the crows or stones and god forbid the mention of the young boy who appeared to me in the back yard, who was indeed dead also.
"Sam, is that you?" Her soft voice rattled my attention.
"It's OK Joanne. I just have to go down to use the bathroom. Go on back to sleep." Reassuringly, I answered her whisper with like reply.
Great Sam! now what the hell are you going to do, I asked myself. With the room dark and out of focus to normal sight; I fought off the crystalline surrounding and crept toward the stairs. Every careful footstep brought about loud creaks that seemingly echoed throughout the house. It was bad enough that I was a bit hung over, let alone the unfamiliar surroundings of a bedroom I barely knew. Coupled with a dream state and the fear of exposure of the whole affair to Joanne, amplified the situation ten fold. This just cannot be happening to me. Fears of having to try to explain to her, made me more fearful.
I really liked her to say the least. Sure the physical attraction fueled the better part of it all. But there was something about her also. Her company was refreshing to me. Something I had sorely missed for quite a few years now. The whole thing however was about to blow up in my face. She wouldn't or even couldn't understand what had happened to me and why now I was acting strangely. As I startled the last step and secreted myself into the downstairs, I fought the dream state and tried desperately to find my way to the bathroom, somewhere in the back part of the house. After a few unsuccessful attempts at finding the light switch, the small 40 watt bulb illuminated the room sufficiently to lift the seat and take aim. Funny how when your trying to be as quiet as a church mouse, the opposite happens or at the very least seems to. The torrent into the bowl sounded like someone unleashed a fire hose into a bucket of water. The quiet night erupted into the bowl; my bladder uncontrollably emptying and disrupting the peace and quiet of the night.
I had hoped that she fell back to sleep and I could regroup my thoughts enough to form a game plan. What if I just went back upstairs and went to sleep, defying the order to go to the tree? Thoughts of confusion were steadily being replaced with unwanted anger and agitation. A soft reminder from the stairs shocked me back to reality.
"Are you OK Sam?" My mind raced as I answered,
"I'm fine sweetie." I tried to sound reassuring as I whispered back.
This can not be happening to me. Not here and not now. I've tried to follow directions and do whatever was in store for me, but this was not the time or place right now. How was I going to explain this if I uncontrollably went out the front door and to the root at the base of the tree. What time was it anyway? That fight or flight mechanism took hold as I once again found myself gripped with fear. Up to now I had become accustomed to the whole thing and took it in stride. Now I was about to blow the whole thing that had suddenly caught my attention, namely Joanne. Ever since I met her and spent the night, I couldn't get her out of my mind. She was refreshing to be with. Like a calm port in a storm. Now I faced sure rejection if I left the house and went sitting on some tree root in the middle of the night. Just then a gentle voice called again as a warm hand found rest on my right shoulder.
"Is there something wrong Sam?" I turned to greet that soft voice and strikingly natural beauty. Her smile took me away once again momentarily. I embraced her and our lips danced thoughts into another place.
" I missed you." She breathed, as I gazed into her eyes.
There was something so enchanting about the tone of her voice, the sparkle in her laughing eyes. Something so magical about her. Hell this whole place seemed magical and frightening at the same time. I was fearful too of starting over again with someone. Fears of losing someone you love had held me back for years, but meeting her was so different. I had entertained ideas of what might happen down the road with her and I. And after another wonderful night together, I found myself with this whole new dilemma. If I tried to explain, the whole thing might blow up in my face. Hell, how could even begin to think she would understand?
"Your shaking Sam. Are you cold?" Her hands caressed my shoulders and that wanting look once again appeared on her face.
"You coming back up?" She gave a small tug on my arm and smiled with that innocent but sexy look. This wasn't going to be easy I thought.
" I have a great idea Joanne." " What if we took a walk in the moonlight? The words came out before I could think it all through.
"Right now?" She stepped back and smiled. There were no doubt, other designs in her invitation back upstairs. The dilemma grew with leaps and bounds.
I had half expected a voice to call out to me then and there. Either the voice from above and beyond or the crows in the darkness, summoning me. None of which happened. I was alone here and faced with a decision. Go back upstairs or take a walk and hope I could work this out as we strolled through the dark, cool night to the waters edge. Perhaps at the tree, its magical powers would help me find an answer. One in which would fulfill my summons and quench her wonder as to my strange request. I was hoping for the best when she responded.
"Aw Sam, that sounds so romantic. Are you a hopeless romantic?" she drew even closer for another mesh of lips. Once again all time stopped and I was lost into her embrace and spell.
"Yeah that's it, I'm helplessly hopeless."
If she only knew how helpless and hopeless I had felt right at the moment. I smiled as I drew her in tight. She excepted and laid her head against my shoulder, squeezed me around the waist and breathed a sigh of comfort. Pushing away, she paused for a second or two, studying my face; smiled and stepped back.
"Come on, show me the way. You have to keep me warm though." The twinkle in her eyes was mesmerizing. When this whole Oak Orchard thing is resolved I'll have a new dilemma waiting in the wings. Where would we be going from here.
She through on a winter jacket over her nightgown and slipped into a pair of sneakers as I pulled my sweatshirt over my naked torso. As we stepped out into the night a voice faintly called in the distance. She laughed as her pace quickened to the new adventure into the darkness.
"Seems you woke the crows up too, Sam! Come on now you romantic. Take me to that big tree." The words startled me. Had she known all along about the tree and its specialness?
The night air was crisp like toast as we made our way out the door and onto the road that led to the tree and waters edge. I had half expected the two boys dancing about me as I walked but no such appearance took place. I was glad that I so far need not explain my weird behavior, however what would happen next was beyond me. Joanne hung close on my arm as the still night air surrounded us.
"Look there goes a crow." She pointed as the crow swooped down from a branch and across our path. He remained silent as the night.
"That's a bit odd, don't you think Sam?"
"Odd? Why do you say that?" They were such a constant sight to me that I just took it for granted.
"Well they don't fly at night , do they?"
"Ha, well I guess you should tell him that, sweetie."
"I guess we should ask the Great Spirit at the tree." I froze in my tracks with her words.
"What's the matter ,Sam?" She put her arms around my neck and smiled.
"Why is that tree so special?" Thoughts again raced.
"Everyone knows about that tree, who lives down here. It has always been here. It never gets bigger or grows. It has been here for hundreds of years they say. Some say it has always been here. The Indians call it the Grandfather Tree. It is sacred to them and they used to come there and talk with their ancestors. They also would ask their Creator for guidance at the tree. There are pictures in the state archives that show the native Indians in the 1800's next to that tree and it looks exactly like it does now. Never has grown and inch."
I was mesmerized by her knowledge of the tree and its importance. Close to the back of my mind was thoughts of telling her about what happened to me. A voice whispered in my ear again.
"Go my son and take her with you upon my root. This is the direction you are to go now. Speak to her about what has happened, for I caused you to meet her. There is something that you have to know. Go and do not hold back."
"Joanne sit with me here." I sat upon the long root and drew her close. She sat upon my lap and gave me a big long kiss. The passion in her was enough to make me forget everything that ever happened here. She was easily becoming something special to me after just two dates. The chemistry was right as they say, whoever they are.
"They say if two lovers sit upon the tree, they will be together forever." She seemed enthralled with the idea as she smiled and shook her hair back waiting for my response.
"Is that so?" My grin was forced as I tried to forget what might happen next.
"Joanne. I have something to tell you. But I am afraid you will take it wrong or think the worst of me. I want very much to not do anything that might push you away. I like you very much."
"I know you do ,Sam. Tell me I promise won't be upset." She snuggled into my chest and held on tight.
"Well , I am not sure where to begin." The tidal wave of doubt and fear was swelling in front of me, about to cover me with my next words. A voice reassured me.
"Sam , my son. Now is the time to do this. There is much to learn yet. The end is close.
"You have to understand something first. I don't believe in spirits or supernatural things but it's just that......."
"Just what , Sam? Tell me." Her concern was sincere.
"Well since I have come here I started to have these dreams. I heard someone talk to me and saw things that I know shouldn't be real. But they seem real."
"What kind of things ,Sam?"
"Well I heard a fathers voice telling me about his two dead sons who were murdered and how I was supposed to come here to let them be free to go have peace in the other world." The floodgates were open now as I poured out my soul to her.
"You heard voices?"
"Yes and there is more, much more. I saw or at least felt the two boys presence around me as I left the house. They would dance around me as I would walk away from the property. I could sense them and even hear their voices laughing. But there is more."
Tell me, this is fascinating to me."
"You don't think I am nuts do you? There are times I wonder that myself." She smiled at me to continue.
"Well, remember when you first met me. I was at the house across the street. You told me about a young boy who was murdered also?" Her face took on a look I couldn't read.
"Yes I remember." Her voice slow and precise.
"Well.......... I saw him." My words drifted into the night air as I waited for what seemed ages for her response. I had crossed over into nowhere land so to speak now.
Her head fell into my lap as she began to cry uncontrollably. I couldn't fathom what it was that made her fall apart but regretted that I had said anything.
"Don't cry , Joanne. It's alright. Tell me why your crying? I am sorry for making you upset."
"I am not upset Sam. Tell me what you saw! He was my nephew." She sobbed uncontrollably.
"Your nephew?' I was bewildered to say the least.
"Yes, tell me what you saw."
"I saw him in my back yard picking clovers. He was real to me. I know what I saw , but when I went to find him again, you showed up and told me all this. But he was real to me just like all the other things that have happened to me here. I didn't ask for this, but it just happened. I have no one to tell this too. You are the first one and I am scared." The floodgates were wide open now as I poured out everything. I felt a bit chocked up inside also at the revelation that she was related to the boy.
"You are a seer." She rose up and wiped her eyes.
"You have the gift of seeing things. The Indians call them seers. You saw him didn't you. Tell me where he is and what has happened. Who killed him Sam. Do you see it . Do you see him!!" She beat on my chest and fell back in to sobbing uncontrollably.
I held her tight and stroked her hair and rocked back and forth to calm her. I whispered softly in her ears that it was alright and that it would be fine. My mind wondered why and how this was all coming to be. How was it that I was here and in this situation. Why and how was it that meeting Joanne was meant to be and that I was directed to her. It was apparent that it was her relative that died, but how was it that now there was something that I was to learn from all this. I held her close and kissed her neck softly. She drew herself up out of my grasp, looked about as if to focus, wiped her eyes and engaged my eyes.
"Sam.. I had a dream the night we met. I saw my nephew and I saw you in the dream also. It was a very pleasant dream and I saw him giving you a clover. He was very happy to meet you. It was very real to me and when I awoke I thought about it a lot. I know it was just a dream and I forgot about it until now. You were meant to come here Sam. I know that now. The dream was real wasn't it?
"Yes. He gave me a four leaf clover in the back yard." It was so strange the way he acted because it was like he was here but not here. He didn't seem to recognize me at first and wouldn't look up at me. But he was real as real can be. I have the clover in my pocket."
"Let me see it and touch it, Sam!" I drew my wallet out of the back pocket and placed the clover pressed in plastic into her hand.
She sobbed uncontrollably once again as she stared into the palm of her hand. The closeness of something special of one lost was apparent. A tear formed in my eyes as her pain became mine. I drew her close and kissed her tears off her face which in turn brought on a floodgate of new ones. Perhaps at that very moment I knew our lives would be forever changed. Our meeting was of sorts both set in motion by another, higher force, and at the same time the attraction very intense. It was as if I had known her all my life. We were apart of each other.
"Your heart is pounding ,Sam."
"Yours too, sweetie"
" Will you find him?" She spoke ever so softly into my chest.
"Yes, I will find him. Your right, I was meant to come here. I didn't know why but I do now. The father told me once that I would have to walk through the fire before I felt the waters. I believe I know what that means now. You are my waters." She looked up, paused into my gaze for a moment and then we kissed like two long lost lovers meeting again.
Breakfast
The smell of the coffee pot brewing sent memories of many mornings together with family and friends, as Joanne danced around the kitchen. Her happiness was manifested by the joy she now expressed in so many ways while she prepared breakfast for the two of us. You could tell that she missed the attention and wanted me to know how good it was that we had met. Unlike many people who put on their best face when first meeting, only to show their true colors later; Joanne was the genuine article. There was no pretense about her. You could tell it somehow in her voice and eyes. She just wasn't the type to put on airs.
"How do you like your toast, Sam?" She smiled as she turned with bread in hand.
"Toasted." I laughed at what seemed like a silly question. Boy, she was trying hard I thought. How do I like my toast? I ducked just in the nick of time ,as she threw the bread at me, laughing.
"What so funny?" She laughed.
"You sweetie. I never had a girl ask me how I wanted my toast. You must really like me." I waited for the next bombardment.
"What gives you that idea?" She curled into my lap with her arms around my neck, bread in tow.
"Your really something else girl." I smiled and greeted her lips.
The coffee was about done as its smell was replaced by the sausage cooking slowly on the small gas burner. The stove was miniature sized, compared to what you would find in a regular house. I guess it was cottage size. Her body silhouetted against the long night shirt she wore. Twitching to and fro, I could make out that no panties were apparent and immediately began with designs for an appetizer. She sashayed by close enough for me to grab a cheek and she immediately cracked my hand with the spatula, armed at her disposal.
"Bad boy, Sam!" She looked over her shoulder and back to the stove. I sighed a bit as thoughts rushed in of how good it once was, to have someone want you that much. That closeness and all those little things that go along with it. I wanted to stay here forever with her. It just seemed perfect.
"How do you want your eggs , Sam?" She paused as the grin on my face widened.
"Don't say it again, or I'll....."
"Or you will what? Pull my pants down? Mmm."
"Bet you would like that?" She twirled the spatula around like a baton.
"Dam, skippy!" That seedy grin took over my face, one in which John surely would have been proud of.
The kitchen was small in size, with enough room for a small table. Her choice was something out of the fifties, with formica and chrome; the formica being some odd pink pattern. Two matching chrome chairs sat across from each other with an old GE refrigerator in one corner. A brief counter with three top and three bottom cabinets sat next to the stove with another section of counter attached. The stove was a small, four burner, with a clock and dial for the oven. Paneling half way up the old walls, were painted some odd powder blue. Old knick knacks of kitchen utensil's lined the ceiling, hung precariously by nails. A few old plates with scenes of castles in a flow blue pattern hung here and there. A blessing about kissing the cook especially caught my eye, as it hung on a wooden board. A thought which I needed no prompting. A metal rack near the stove, held cooking utensils. The room was open to a hallway, that led back to the bathroom and a small window graced the hall, with a view of the neighbor's faded siding and gravel driveway.
With the sexual overtones of preparing breakfast aside, Joanne sat across from me as a bit of silence set in again. The past ten hours or so ran the gauntlet of emotions, only to lead back to the problem at hand and the revelations at the tree, just a few hours prior.
"Sam.....what did it mean? The leaf? What was it you heard from the Great Spirit? You placed the torn leaf into the water, looked back at me with a blank stare and we walked back home." Her eyes searched mine with a solemn stare.
"When I first had these dream states, I went outside one night as instructed. I was told to reach down and pick up two stones and told one would be black and one white. Sure enough when I got back inside the house, there they were. The stones were both a representation of the two boys and their fate so to speak. The stones representing life and death. The father of the boys told me to hold one to them and many things were revealed to me. Later I was told that I would give them to someone else. But I had no idea who it would be or when. Last night at the Tree, I was told to pick a leaf from the branch of the Thinking Tree, to tear off two separate points from the leaf and then the top point of the oak leaf. Set the leaf adrift into the waters of life."
"That was it....? She queried.
"No....then when I would see this same leaf again, I would also know who to give the stones to. The leaf would somehow return to me I guess, But I am not sure."
"Then what happens? Her face determined to know more.
"I am not sure what that all meant, so I asked the Great Spirit to explain. He simply said that the circle of life was coming around and to watch the power of the Great One, take hold."
"Why do you think three parts of the leaf were torn, Sam? She stammered a bit.
"Somehow I feel inside, deep down that they represent not just the two Indian boys, but young Johnie Applegate also. It is as if they are all connected in some way, but how I don't know how." I drew another gulp of coffee, as I stared off into the bottom of the cup.
"What happens after you give the stones away? What do you do then?" She looked up from out of the same pit in her cup.
"Is this person to take the stones somewhere? And why? What does it all mean Sam!" A bit of emotion settled back into her expressionless face.
"I'm sorry, Joanne, but I don't have the answer for you."
We stared at each other for a few moments as last nights events sunk in. There was no going back here, only ahead. The clouds of mystery were lifting and no matter how much I tried to avoid it, the end was rushing in. The look on Joanne's face said it all. Here sitting in her kitchen was the one person who would finally end the mystery of Oak Orchards events. Across the table I sat helplessly, knowing that no matter what I did from this point on nothing would change things. I was being led, led to where, I did not know. Led by a force I neither believed in, nor wanted, at first . Now I was driven into a madness that awaiting me. A destiny that I could not avoid. I couldn't escape it seemed.
"All I wanted was a change of scenery. I took this damn job to get away from it all. And now here I am; where I am is anyones guess. I am in someones friggin nightmare!" I pushed the plate away in disgust.
"No ,Sam wait, talk to me." Joanne reached across the table for me.
"You know something ,Jo? I didn't believe in none of this stuff. No life after death nor any of this nonsense. I came here to get away, clear my damn head of all the bull and what happens? I can't sleep, instead I walk in the night. I hear fucking voices telling me I need to help dead people. Hell this is not even funny. Then fucking crows are shitting on my truck, waiting for me, following me. I can't go anywhere without them following or leading me somewhere. Then I get these damn messages, that I am the One who was meant to come here. Oak Orchard! Then I see a kid in the back yard who incidentally , isn't really there. God! Lucky fucking me. If I can't have two dead kids to take care of, I got three! Then I try to act like it's ok. Sure I listen and try to follow the instructions. I don't believe. Hell maybe I drank to much or something. But no then, here comes the lady down the street to tell me hey ....the kids dead, no one is home. We sleep together because I want it all to go away and poof you have a whole new take on it. It's your relative and you know some damn tree that has been here forever. Well I am sick of this shit OK! I'm packing my shit and getting the fuck out of this nightmare, hear me? "
"Sam wait! can't you see your the one?" " Sam!! dammit listen!!" I walked past and turned as I grabbed the knob. Stepping back in to responded
" What? For God sake what? Listen to some more of this crap. I had enough. Let the Great One do it Himself. I 'm just a fucking contractor , not some special whatever the fuck.!!!! Got that? I am sorry but I have to go." The door hit me in the ass and I had to close it again.
It took about five minutes to go around the two blocks and find my truck. Eyes darting for crows. I could have strangled the damn things. Rounding the last driveway I headed for the door. A familiar swoop and caw dropped me in my tracks. I looked but he was gone.
"Fuck you too!!" I assaulted the door, which gave way easily and banged the porch window sill, knocking the glass loose and onto the floor.
"Shit! shit!!!! I'm done you hear me?" I screamed at the top of my voice. But no one heard ,and when the dust settled, I had packed up my tools and headed for the door.
"Fuck you! I 'm out of here and this fucking never world dream or whatever you call it. I was about as mad as when my wife left., and the same deaf ears listening to my rantings.
"Great! The god damn truck won't start.That's just fucking great! You won't win!! You hear me!! I rolled the window down like there was someone there to yell at. There wasn't. I grabbed the key again but the life slept away from the battery. I sat holding the steering wheel as if I could choke it. For the longest time I held on. My head went limp and folded into my hands, still clutching the wheel.
"Why God? Why me? I am not a good person, hell I fucked up my marriage. I came here to work. I'm sorry I don't believe in none of this. So sue me , OK?"
The tires screeched to a halt and Joanne sprung from the VW, before both the dust and the car settled.
"Wait Sam. Please wait."
I held onto the wheel as if now it was a security blanket. My way of escape. I turned and looked at the ignition with every intention to turn it again. A desperate hope of a final getaway. She eased into the window.
"Sam please talk to me!"
It was a good day when I stepped back out of the truck. A good day to be in love. A good day to think about everything. It was a good day to step out and take a look around.
"So what is it?"
Please stay........Sam."
"I can't leave....you see it? I'm a prisoner here now. The damn truck won't start." There ya happy? " I rose my eyes off her and looked around, settling back, I stared for a minute into the brown abyss of those perfect look, that I fell for days ago.
There comes a point in life , you just give up. Give up trying. Give up arguing , tring to make a point. You give up trying to find work.
You just seem to give up and give in. So I looked back into her big brown eyes.
"Why Jo? Why?"
She thought long and hard while her eyes searched mine.
"I don't have the answers, but will you stay? Stay and find the answers?" Her look was like a lost puppy. She would not beg again for sure. The truth about it all emerged as her eyes grew bigger, waiting for my answer. My feet wanted to shuffle away. They wanted to do that....I don't know what to say dance feet do. It didn't work nor the blank stares wives often get when a man is caught doing wrong. I had no where to go. The damn truck wouldn't start and my mind went around and around thinking of excuses and searching for decisions. She saved me.
" Sam , just stay and find out whatever it is, that is going to happen. " You have been chosen for why....hell I don't know. Look at me!!": Her eyes searched as mine rose out of wonderland.
OK, lets talk then." I threw the keys into the Chevy seat and they bounced onto the floor, assuring me I would have to search hard, before I found them again. I walked past Jo and grabbed her hand.
"Come on." I jerked her hand and she jerked back and smiled
"You jerk!"
Chapter 18 "The Visitor"
Joanne left after two hours. I went back to work and later called Mary. She didn't pick up. I actually wanted more work and I guess I was avoiding the obvious. That the job was coming to an end. Before Jo left, we had a go around on my couch, which seemed inevitable, given the strong attraction to each other. But after it was all said and done, I was still stuck here in Oak Orchard and meeting her now made leaving more difficult The damn truck wouldn't start and I let her talk me into staying. So I was In effect , back to square one. I shuffled about the house looking for something to do. A weird thought came across my mind, to go back to that damn tree. I stopped at the counter, grabbed a half finished drink from who knows when. Gulped it down and winced. The cup had a bad smell of coffee and drink. The mixture of the two seemed fine when I was no doubt drinking and couldn't find a glass. Pushed the next one into place and added soda. Now It was disgusting. None the less I drank it.
"Your a stinking alcoholic Sam!" I looked for more as the joy of knowing I did have more took hold. The cabinet flew open to reveal the prize. Grasping the bottle in my left hand I closed the door. The sound resonated upon the walls as some other noise distracted me. The door hinges sang as his big fist pounded. I drew the curtain to the side but as it were there was no clear view. I had to answer.
"We need to talk." His booming voice seemed determined.
"Back up big guy ,OK?" I opened the door with a presence.
Reddog stepped back as I excreted myself into the drive way. Before he could talk an unwelcome visitor appeared.
The best thing I could say about the damn crows,was that they sure could get your attention. The damn things just knew when and where to make you see. Reddog for his part swung heavy into thin air. I stepped back knowing for once the damn crows chased his ass and not mine for change.
He stepped back and demanded
"Give them to me"
"What the hell do you want?" I was sincere.
"The stones...give them to me. I know what they mean white boy."
"You know what? Screw you and screw the stones." Get lost !" With that comment a loud Caw cried out. Obviously I had made a bad call.
"What do you think? I am afraid of you?"
"Just give me the stones. I know what I have to do."
"You know what? I am not giving you any stones. I have work to do."
"If you recall, big guy, I tried to give you the stones once, and tried to talk to you about what they meant, or have you forgotten that somehow? See them? Here they are pal. stones, two fucking stones . You want them now, Why?" Reddog stepped back and I knew I could make my move. I had stepped out of my security. Reddog looked down as if being scolded, like a little kid. I stepped toward him, emboldened by his strange actions. I was playing with fire, but after a little fire water to fuel me, I was ready for even big old Reddog.
Had I not been drinking and had presence of mind, our conversation may have gone another direction. But something was wrong again. Just when I figure I knew something, it gets even more complicated. The mere presence of this large man was impressive to anyone. He had , don't mess with this one, written all over. I knew it and everyone in this town knew it. You just steer clear of him. Here he was first demanding the stones, backing off and seeming lost into another place. This was a terrible picture. His head silent toward the ground. I stepped back to the doorway, sure I was about to see doom. I remembered the tree and the vision. The leaf and it's truth, but fear overcame me as now surely something terrible was about to happen. I grew fearful. He wasn't getting the stones, I was sure of it, but now what was I to do. I took another cautious step back as his eyes drew up toward me. Time stood still. Now froze in time and place, neither had words. That surreal picture I grew accustomed too somehow took on a look of it's own. There come a time in every mans life when that defensive mechanism that we are all born with, fight or flight takes over. Fight was sure not an option here. I backed down and tried my damnedest to find something to say that might defuse the time bomb standing before me.
"Look man, I have no beef with you OK?" I don't want any trouble with you OK?" I heard that little voice in my head calling me chicken shit , but the voice was wrong. He shuffled his large frame which sent shivers to my asshole. Then the damndest thing happened.
"May be I should come back another time. !" He extended a paw toward me.
"Sorry to have caused you trouble." A strange look appeared in Reddogs face. The crags of hard work and perhaps hard luck ran deep, but somewhere within those time lines stood a sincere man. I grabbed his hand, shook it and my head followed suit with confusion. I probably looked like one of those stupid bobble head dolls you put in your back window of your vehicle, with some dumb helmet on it.
"Sure thing, Reddog. Like I said, we have no problem here." Puzzled I wanted to ask more. He was so out of character but I was too out of sorts to press.
.
" I have dreams. I have to do this." He muttered as he turned to walk away into my nightmares.
"You have dreams, well there's a good one. I come here and have all this happen to me, not to mention dreams. Now you come around after I tried to talk to you about this whole crap and now your having the dreams? Not to be smart but welcome to my world buddy."
"Hold on,OK? We need to talk." As we paused in thought both our eyes shot heavenward as a lonely crow settled across the street silently upon the rooftop.
"The crows, they know." He pointed as the visitor flapped his wings in defiance.
"Look why not come back later and we can talk about it some more, fair enough?" Still fearful I decided that letting it go for now was the only answer. I needed to go back to the tree and talk about it before he returned.
"Alright, that is a good thing." Turning away again eying the crow carefully he departed. I stood and stared taking the whole thing in. He can't be the one, no leaf, no not him. What he can do is tell me what it means though. That was a plan. The crow flew off and I looked at the ground searching for something unconsciously. No leaf no leaf, no leaf. I muttered all the way back to the cabinet where the faith healer stood waiting. I threw a double down, winced again and thought.
"What the hell you getting yourself into now Sam?"
By now the day was slipping away. First Joanne, then the big guy and the drinking early in the morning did not help either. I poured a fresh one and walked to the porch, bent down slightly to catch sight of the rooftops and decided I was safe to step out. The crows were no bother really, but I had grow accustomed to look for them out of habit. Standing on the stoop, glass in hand , I briefly but surely looked from side to side, to see if anyone had been watching the activities of the morning. Funny thing about this place, was that you never see many people but they all seem to know what is going on.
"Hell, may be they are all telepathic,Sam!" I snickered at my own dumb thoughts as I sipped my third or forth drink.
I began to think over and over again about last nights events and the more I thought , the more dumbfounded I remained. I vacillated back and forth from the big guy to Joanne and the tree. What was I going to say when I left here? Was I going to leave here? How long will I have to go around Oak Orchard waiting for some leaf to appear. All the while I stared at the damn truck. It started every morning from the day I got it, but now it just seemed dead. It was as if now the truck had been taken over by some power. I laughed again at the abstract thoughts I conjured.
" Come on dammit, start." I turned the key but nothing happened again, as I banged the dashboard like you would an old TV when it wasn't working right. A couple of sound rasps on the top and it came in fine. Guess it doesn't work on trucks. I jiggled the steering wheel and the lever that tells you which gear your in and turned once more. The truck roared to life.
"Now that's what I'm talking about! See you can't keep a good man down!" I hollered out the window with one hand on the wheel and another clutching the glass tumbler.
I wheeled slowly down the road to test my motor skills and with everything in order I glided to the corner stop sign. Across the street sat the big Oak, where not a few hours ago Joanne and I sat. I glanced up to the right , up Bayview, leading to the Crows Nest, then back at the tree. Finally I turned to the other side which led me out of town past Joanne's road. I swung a left.
By now I figured that she went back to bed, but what the hell, I wasn't getting anything done today and besides a little more calm before the storm of Red dogs visit later seemed like the thing to do. I swung into her driveway behind the VW and gunned the motor for attention. Within seconds the curtain flew to the side on the porch and her cherubic face peered out at me. Her smile was immediate signaling me that I made the right choice. She drifted out the door to the truck and with one hand reached in to grab my neck.
"See you got the truck running. What was wrong with it ,Sam?" Her tone was loud to match the racing motor. I let it back down to talk.
"Nothing really. I just gave it a kick in the ass and the old horse got up and went." I laughed at my own stupidity.
"Oh yeah. What are you drinking ,Sam.?" She eyed me, half smiling.
"Hey let me back it out and park, in case it doesn't start again, you can get your car out still, OK?" I hoped the diversion would work.
"Sure , Sam." She let go of my neck and backed up a bit to allow me to ease back out.
The truck pulled slowly out as I tried to think what I was going to say next. Women all seem to come from the same mold when it comes to the drinking thing. I decided to tell her the truth, sort of.
"Guess who stopped by after you left ,Jo? That big Indian, Reddog." I waited for her reply, hoping.
"What the hell did he want?" She looked concerned.
"Well he pounded on the door and demanded I give him the two stones I found." I acted bold.
"You didn't give them to him, did you?" She stepped closer to me.
"Hell no! I told him he wasn't getting any damn stones. And he left!" My posture stiffened to give that tough guy impression, but she pressed.
"Well that's good. He is real scary. There is something strange about him ,Sam. You be careful around him, you hear."
With that she surrounded my neck with her arms and smiled that paralyzing smile at me. I was finished now. The Medusa like look drew me back into her charm. We kissed for a minute or so, then she pulled back, arms still in place.
"Drinking a little early, aren't you?" Her half smile read like a half way approval.
"Not if your from Margaritaville sweetie!" With that she slapped my arm.
"Very funny,Sam. You want to come back in. Half tugging on my arm, her sly look appeared. That innocent little girl look that men fall for every time.
"Why? What do you have in mind little girl?" With that she yanked me in and kissed me.
"Come on in and find out, you big stud."
The next couple of hours went by to fast. We made love a few more times while I ventured whether to tell her or not about him returning later tonight. On the one hand I wanted to be honest and not start out a relationship the wrong way. But on the other hand I didn't want her to worry about me. This was something I needed to do by myself. Besides I thought, this is my nightmare not hers.
About 1 or 2 we must have fell back to sleep in each others arms. The romantic fog and the grog associated earlier constituted the right mixture for sleep. However, somewhere around 4:00 she awoke and proceeded to fondle me for more attention. I rolled toward her embrace, half asleep and began kissing again when the lights in my head went off.
"Shit! What time is it?" I jumped to a sitting position.
"Why you don't have to go now." She grabbed my neck to pull me back in.
"No really, I do have to go Joanne. There is something I have to do.
"What could be more important then me honey?" She smiled a sheepish smile as she reached for me.
"No really, I do have to go meet someone?" I sat to the edge of the small cozy bed, halfheartedly wanting to stay.
"Who do you have to meet? Another girl Sam?" She rolled toward me exposing her perky B-cups, with her headlights at high beam, inviting me to devour them.
I smiled at her beautiful face and reached to give her nipples a soft pinch.
"No sweetie, I have all the woman I can handle right here." I bent down and muzzled her breasts until she let out a moan, which signaled me to hit the stop button.
"I really have to go Jo, sorry." I reached for the lump of clothes that were hastily thrown of in the madness to jump under the sheets.
"If your truck won't start, then you have to stay, Sam." She laughed slightly, waiting for a response.
"Don't even say that, it's not funny Jo." I stood , zipped up my fly and pulled my old favorite sweatshirt over my naked torso as she burst into laughter.
"Were you really going to leave me without saying goodbye, Sam?" She queried in little girl tones.
"Oh course not, I was just all worked up. I don't think I'll ever leave this place!" I slipped my work boots onto bare feet, unable to locate the other sock, and shoved the other into a pocket.
"Good, stay here forever. Where's my kiss goodnight?" She knelt on the bed and her naked body coiled around me like a Python. In turn my Python rose to it's limits.
We kissed and without further prodding, but with an insistence that I agreed to come back soon, I made my exit for what might be a maelstrom awaiting me.
Reddog Returns
It was about 6:30 when Reddog returned, one hand clutching a duffel type bag. There was no way of knowing where this was going but it was too late to worry about it now. By the sound in the small bag , a bottle of some sort was inside. I was certain that this might be a bad idea, drinking with a big Indian like Reddog. If he got out of hand, well I guess I better outrun him.
"That's not funny Sam." A voice in the back of my head echoed as Reddog waltzed through the doorway, his frame barely fitting, and into the living room, where I had been encamped for over a month now.
"How's it going , big guy?" I tried to sound as if we were long known friends, but we weren't so his response was rather bland.
"Where's the kitchen? Do you have two glasses? Come, have a drink and let's look at something. I want you to see this."
"Have a seat." I pulled out a stool at the end counter. There were two and I grabbed the glasses and set them before him as I lowered into my seat across from him.
The first thing out of the bag was a fresh half gallon of 'Old Crow Whiskey'.
"That supposed to be funny Reddog?" I sneered as I reminded him about all my business with the crows. We both bellowed with laughter at the same time as I was sure it was on purpose.
"The hell with the crows, we'll drink them away." Again laughter filled the room as he poured the first round.
"Hey, first show me where you found those two stones." He commanded.
The back door screeched open despite the almost one full can of WD 40, spraying the hinges daily. We stepped down onto the concrete slab where it all had started that one late afternoon while laying on the concrete. I began to have flashbacks as that voice returned into my head. It was as if it happened today.
"Here in that old fire pit. One night in a dream state I walked out here in the pitch black, reached down and went back inside. They were the first things I touched, just as the father told me I would." I explained as he studied the ground carefully.
He rose from a kneeling position he took and strode past me without a further word about the stones.
"Come on, let me show you my ancestors."
Before we reached the door a silent visitor swooped out off a branch and right in front of us, dropping something into the path of Reddog.
"What the hell is this?" He picked up the leaf and held it up for a closer look.
"Shit, I'll be buggered, it is true!" My eyes grew big as I reached and plucked it from his paw.
"It's just some torn up leaf,Sam." He exclaimed.
"No, you don't understand. Come up to the tree and we will talk up there." I had a hurried look as I spoke to Reddog. He acknowledged with a strange look then spoke.
"Tell me later, let me show you this first." We sank back into the house without another word about the leaf or the tree.
I lit a fresh cigarette as I grabbed my drink and set back into my seat. Reddog in turn rummaged through his bag to find the first picture to show me, finally deciding that putting them all on the table was a better idea.
As he pawed through the photos, both in sepia and black and white, dating them, all I thought about was the two boys, Applegate, Capt. Tom, the crows , Joanne and of course this place called Oak Orchard. The name itself seemed like such a peaceful place, yet it was full of troubles and mystery.
I had been thrown into a world that I never expected nor quite believed. Dream states and walks into the night to sit on a tree and talk to spirits. Fathers, the Great One, even boys dancing around me magically into the night as I tried to leave this place. I couldn't get away if I tried. The Damn truck broke, and Joanne, well she just had to enter the picture, didn't she?
"Sam, look at this one, it's my great-grand-mother." I snapped out of the trance I fell into and looked up as I reached for the picture. A small tear formed in the corner of Reddog's eye. I pretended not to notice.
"Here name is Ocaquamoen. It means' the one who is here'." A smile set across his face as he admired her.
Something odd struck me as he spoke her name. It sounded familiar yet distant. I was sure I had never heard it before. Even the meaning struck me odd. I thought hard trying to piece it together as he reached at another picture.
"This was one of her sons, the bad one."
"What was his name.?" I asked as he was still transfixed on the picture.
"Reddog?" I startled him.
"His name, do you remember it?" I looked directly into his eyes.
"I, saw him. In my dreams I saw him." His stare expressionless.
"I don't remember his name, only the meaning of it. It was Shining Sun." His eyes rose off the picture and directly through me.
"The stones are for me aren't they?" He spoke with intention now glaring across the table.
At first I thought this was going to turn ugly right here and now. I paused and returned the gaze.
"Yes, I believe they are Reddog. The leaf was a sign for who I would give them to. I sign I learned at the tree from the Great One. I was the one who tore the corners off the leaf. I was told to do it. I placed it into the waters of life and was told it would come full circle. When I saw this leaf again I would know who to give it to."
The expression left his face again and he seemed to grow pale in complexion. He slowly reached for the bottle of Old Crow and refilled his glass, tightening the lid until it sounded like it was going to snap. Then, slowly pushed the bottle across to me, all the while seemingly somewhere else. A chill crossed my neck as I excepted the offering and struggled to loosen the cap. It was as if he knew something was about to happen. I even sensed something bad happening and a fear came upon me now. I swallowed hard and tried to focus despite the alcohol I had consumed. This all happened in a matter of minutes when it finally sunk in.
"What did you say his name meant? The other name he was called by his people? The glass reached my lips unconsciously .
"Shining Sun. You know don't you?" He looked up as he spoke now escaping his trance. His stare still blank.
"Yes I think I do now." I stared into those lost black orbs, hoping to find an expression, a telltale sign of what was about to happen. The sound broke the silence.
From across the room the sound seemed to echo. We both turned to look as the dream-catcher that had held fast to the wall fell and bounced across the empty room. Constructed to protect the young from bad dreams and others, it was a sign to the both of us. My mind raced with thoughts now of the two boys. It was his ancestor that had killed the two boys. Shining Sun. It was now that this whole thing meant something to me. But was He to die for the sins of his ancestors? My heart pounded as Reddog turned, face whiter then ever and after a few moments at me, looked into his drink as if some answer lie at the bottom. That sullen look men have in bars as age had overtaken them and death was near. That waiting look.
"Here, take these. I believe they belong with you now." I reached into my pocket and drew the two stones that had been a companion in my pocket for so long now. As I passed them across to the new owner a sense of both relief and pain filled me. It was not over. I still didn't know what is going to happen. All I knew was who the stones were to be given to now, that's all. Reddog hesitated as if he now didn't want them. Then his hand settled in front of mine for me to deliver them. I looked for a shake or some sign of fear in him but he looked away as I dropped them in and he in turn examined them. As his arm left the table, I could discern a tumbling sound, much like the one I created when I had them. Uncontrollably tumbling and fumbling with them. He put them to rest into his pocket, looked up with a slight determination, the first expression I had seen on his face in a while, and said.
"It is time. Come, let us go to the tree and speak." He slowly rose from the table signaling that I had no choice in the matter. Placing the pictures back into the bag with the same care as they had come out of the tattered folder that held them before, he set the bag aside assuring me that we were returning here, stood up and strode toward the front door.
Before long we had shuffled ourselves to the tree and sat upon the elongated root that held the behemoth firm to the ground. How many storms this tree weathered over the years,I wondered. How many cold harsh winters had the limbs withstood the ice and snow? The howling of the Northeast wind that rips across the bay in winter. A bit of silence filled the air as we sat partially illuminated by the dock lights not far off, in this park that surrounded the tree. A few locals slowed and glared, then sped off as if it were nothing. Shortly after, a cruiser from the local State Police barracks rolled up to a stop and a voice hollered over the cars intercom, out into the night.
"Everything alright there fellows?" His head cocked down to look out for an answer.
I looked over and raised an arm to signal, as Reddog sat motionless and uninterested. The cruiser slowly eased off down the road hesitantly at first as if in disbelief. He had seen the big one before. Recognized him from the silhouetted frame now perched beside a stranger. A stranger to this town. A silent sigh of relief came as the car left, not wanting any more drama to add to what had already occurred. With the car out of sight, Reddog rose to his feet pulling something out of his pocket. It was a small leather pouch. As he untethered it I recognized it as some sort of medicine pouch used to give offerings. He reached in and drew a handful of something into his palm, made a fist and held it above his head. He began an indiscernible chant, perhaps in his native tongue; making circles with his fist. He finally finished by allowing the contents to drift slowly into the night air, which to me had no movement. The tobacco danced away into the night magically as if being held by hands of acceptance. He settled back into the tree, shoved a hand into his pocket, and the familiar clicking sound of the two stones being fondled continued.
"Tell me about your family , Reddog. How they came to be here and where they were from. Do you know much about their history?" I felt a calmness approaching now.
"Only stories handed down about them. When I was a boy our family was closer and there were times when they talked of the old days. My Grandfather mostly." Looking around as if someone were present with us.
"We had come north, up out of North Carolina near the Georgia border, well before the Civil War started. You know it is funny that you and this leaf thing Sam." He stopped to query me.
"What do you mean?
"Our first written language was called 'The Talking Leaves. It was named that to make fun of the white mans words, which were like leaves that dried up and blew away with the wind.
"That makes sense." I chuckled a bit.
Soon after, the government saw that we were a mighty nation of people and decided it was time to break us as a people. Treaties were broken and lands taken back from them, until they came to relocate them. They rounded up most of the people and drove them on foot to Oklahoma They walked over 1,000 miles and many died. I think it was some 4,000 died from starvation, disease and exposure. We were the last of the 5 Great Nations to be moved there. The journey they took was called the Trail of Tears."
"I've heard of that." Something stirred inside me as He spoke.
"There were some who resisted and were killed, but some escaped away and hid. Our family were some of them. In time we became hated and did bad things even to our own people, helping the whites round up others. A bad spirit fell upon them. They had left the safety of the Great One and walked in their own spirit. Not all were bad, but the same bad spirit fell upon all that remained."
" I don't understand. Why would your people turn on their own?" I shuffled my feet and looked into the ground picked up another leaf and unconsciously began tearing corners.
"My grandfather said , it was the anger that they held in their hearts. Anger for all they lost. Anger for all they were. That anger ate them from the inside out, until they lost all that was right and good." Reddog looked to the ground. There was more.
"But how did your family end up here?" With the leaf torn I threw it away and turned to him for his answer.
"After many years, even the ones who hid broke up and went separate ways. Our family came north into Delaware, Virginia and Pennsylvania. We married into other tribes, like the Nanticoke and Leni-Lenape. My grandfather was part Cherokee and Leni-Lenope. My grandmother was Nanticoke." He broke abruptly.
"Do you still feel like that curse is upon your family?" My tone settled as I tried to be sincere.
Reddog looked puzzled and stared through me. After a moment or two, his eyed fixed in place, he requested a favor.
"Talk to the Great One for me. Ask him for direction and forgiveness, Sam. He will listen to you." He grabbed the bag in one hand and the stones in his pocket tumbled again. I took the pouch and removed a small amount of tobacco, made a fist and rose above my head into circles, stirring the air. I offered what I thought he wanted and needed. Upon completion, Reddog rose , shook my hand and was gone.
I had bowed my head and then looked away. When my gaze met the spot where he sat...well he was gone. I looked up, unafraid and felt a calm in my spirit. My eyes rose heavenward and a word formed into my mouth, forcing me to speak.
"Shape shifters," I looked back down at the leaf; smiled at myself and walked back to home. I wanted this over.
Chapter 20 SWEET DREAMS
About 9 pm, I got tired of drinking the Old Crow. I had learned long ago that whiskey and I did not mix well and so by now I was feeling sick. I felt closure in some ways but then again something was unanswered. It couldn't have ended that simple. My handing stones to some stranger. I did however look out the window and even though dark, imagined that my friends the crows would still be around. I walked out a time or two into the darkness, but no caws were made. No shadows into the night on branches. Reddog up and disappeared again like he does. Who the hell knows if shape shifters are real. It was over. But the knawing continued. It's like an argument where you haven't got the last word in. You still have more to say or questions to ask. I sat at the kitchen stool of this make shift home, wondering and hoping it was over and I could go home. But to what? I have no real home. An empty house and a failing business. The rushing in of the past overwhelmed me.
" That's it huh?" I stared into space.
"Your back to square one Sam!" I told myself as I sipped the Old Crow., habitually.
I sat and thought long and hard about all that happened. Mary, the job and all the shit I went through. Then there was Joanne. I wanted to leave but now I had this to deal with. I wanted some answers. And the more I thought about the whole thing the madder I got.
"But my body told me , I was in need of sleep. Desperately I had fought what happened over the weeks. Now I needed a good nights sleep. I rinsed the glass, then placed it up on the drain board and rollled into the living room. I looked at what my life had come to after years of trying to be a good man, a good husband. A fuckin' couch , in an empty house is what I am resigned to now, I thought. I yanked the sleeping bag upon me, tightened my eyes as if it all would go away and be done with. The damn, big Indian filled my thoughts. I drifted off to sleep.
It had seemed like a very sound sleep, unusually sound. Dreams of the past and present filled my head. Visions of my life, where I had been and things I accomplished and lost danced free reign while I slept. But still Oak Orchard seemed real as it gets. My final words with Reddog before he departed to places unknown, and of course Joanne. Her sweet face appeared and reappeared through out the night, bringing me comfort. I could smell her hair and feel her touch as the essence of her being surrounded me. Then a visit from the three boys standing within arms length. They appeared to me in my own living room as I seemingly awoke from my dreams to greet them, and to converse one more time. Their father greeted me with a smile and embraced to say thanks for fulfilling the duty I came here for. And then my Creator at the tree whispered things never dreamed of nor had I gave thought to before. His words kept echoing in my head about "you must walk through the fire, before you feel the water." The night seemed long indeed. But something was missing. I felt it, and as if I were about to be awakened, and given something else to understand. My mind became settled in the wash of rem sleep. I felt awake but knew somehow I was in a place I had never been. Not really a dream either. A place of visions. The night lagged on forever, knawing away into me. Then a quiet tapping and rolling sound became ever present as my eyes gently opened to the still night . I focused on an object as it rolled across the floor. A familiar object and sound now. It was the dream catcher again. I glanced to the wall where I had repositioned it firmly back upon the nail where it had gathered dust over the years, unmoved Then back to the far wall as it made it's final rest once again. The room took on a crystalline appearance as it had some many sleepless nights. Across to the kitchen area stood three shadowy figures, lined up like soldiers. Small soldiers.
"Who's there?" My voice seemed muffled and crisp at the same time. A chill went through me like I was nearing death itself, an unsettling feeling. I struggled to sit on the edge of the couch and shake off what I thought was just grogginess from a deep sleep. But the crystalline appearance grew into the whole room. The figures in the shadows became apparent now. It was the three boys. The stood silent as if waiting for something. I fought to gather my senses and found it difficult to form words but rather think words. Then another figure stood tall behind them, wrapped his arms upon them as they turned to look up at there shelter. Then he spoke.
"Onaquacome, come a greet those whom you have worked so hard for. Those you endured this burden for. Come and greet our children who will soon go home." I recognized the fathers voice. A calmness fell over me as I rose from the couch and stepped the ground connecting our two worlds.
"Hello Running Fox and Little Bear, and hello Johnie." They smiled in unison and surrounded me, arms interlocked. I felt out into the night to finally feel what I had felt all along. There presence. The father spoke as we embraced silently.
"There is no doubt in your mind now my son is there? The circle of life is about to come full circle now. It is time to say goodbye to friends and family. They have become your family as well as mine. Your adopted sons wanted to come to say thank you for they know soon they will be home. And I have come with them to reassure you to see this to the finish. You were given gifts and now you have found those gifts to use. You found your way here, not by accident, rather by direction. What you once believed is now gone and replaced with what is real and pure. Soon you will heal also. The circle of life has come to you also Sam."
I stood there in disbelief as for the first time I could make out the faces of all those who had gone before me. I had been allowed to enter into a world that to most does not or could not even exist. A crossing over and back again. A bridge between the two. I could feel a deep love warming my heart and feeling of things I had not felt for many years. The depth of love personified. I was standing arm in arm with people who were long gone but not forgotten. They were as real as it gets.
"Go to the tree, Sam. Go there and find the final answers you want and need. And listen to our Creator, for his words are truth. His direction is firm. His ways are pure. There is a piece of you missing, so go there and find it Sam. Goodbye my humble friend. May the Great Spirit, who gives peace, be with you forever."
I muttered goodbye, not really wanted the departure, as tears formed in my eyes. I felt now as if I was losing my family all over again. I didn't want this to end now. I was wrong.
"Please don't go yet, please!" I lowered my head to sob as the room cleared into reality again.
I stood alone in the dark for a while before clearing my head and clearing my eyes. I replaced the dream catcher once again to it's proper place, knowing that it had not failed the children. Knowing that in the time frame of the Great One, they always would be protected just as all would be. That nothing would be left undone or unfinished. That in the circle of life all things are revealed and all things made right. It was His hand that had directed everything. His will that my footsteps had led me here. My heritage that allowed me to see what no one could see. And His gift to see those things. I wondered what it was that I was missing. The tree seemed such a place of comfort as I sat to pull my boots on once again. There was no telling what time it was and everything seemed irrelevant now. Insignificant in the big picture. The door closed softly behind me as I slipped into the night.
Arriving at the tree, silhouetted by the dock lights in the distance, it appeared larger then life. Had it grown over the hundreds of years, how big might it be, I pondered as I approached. I pulled two cigarettes from the pack, crumpled the tobacco out into the palm of my hand and rose a fist above my head. As I made circle into the night air, I could hear words being uttered for me in a language not familiar to me. Inside I knew it was words that I had somehow known long ago. Somewhere in the stream of time. The words that said what my heart was saying.
"Hear my prayers Great One. Show me what I should do. Help me understand your ways and direct my feet to walk in your approval." I circled silently, stirring the night air, before letting go. The tobacco floated magically into the still night, drifting away on vacant currents of air.
"My son, you have done what is right and true. You have heard my words and instructions. The stones are where they belong now. What is it upon your heart? Let me hear you ask, for I already know. Let me feel your inner most feelings. Ask and it will be given."
My mind that had once been filled with so many questions now seemed to escape me. I knew what I wanted to ask but could not place it into a sentence. I rose my eyes heavenward and spoke.
"What is to become of Reddog, Great One?" I halfhearted asked as if my action now spelled doom for someone I had just sat and laughed and drank with. I began to feel a bit of regret as to being the fore bearer of that black gift.
"Your heart is heavy, my son. Do not fear, for you are but a vessel. There is much more then you know or will ever know. Search your heart now and feel. You have been given many gifts. Search your heart and find what it is you long for. What is it you see?" His voice sounded like a loving father and a just judge.
" I see the black stone. A life is gone. The crows announce their demise and then they are also gone. I do not see a face but know it is there. There is comfort in this passing. There is an end to all things here."
"Yes my son, you have seen and felt. But where are you in all this?"
"I can not see myself, Great One." I searched my heart for an answer.
"You have walked through the fire, now you will feel the water. Go and wait to see the great wonder and awe of my power. Your work is done. It is up to you to follow now and find the things that are missing within you. Within your life. They are right in front of you. I tell you today, that your heart will heal. Never forget your heritage nor the One who Is and always will be. Go Sam, Onaquacome, adopted father, you are the one who was meant to come. You are a part of the circle. You are the circle." His words drifted off into the night as I wandered off into thought. Just then a gentle breeze caressed my face in and otherwise still night. As quickly as it came, it went, while rising to my feet I examined the great tree. This was a place I could come any time and find solace. It was a comfort to feel the connection between, the earth and the Creator. I felt a part of it all.
The walk back down to the house proved short and before long, I found myself curled up into my sleeping bag and fast asleep once again. Wonderful dreams and memories entered and left. Places I had been, and especially good times in my life. Joanne was definitely one of those dreams.
Chapter 21
"The Deal"
Mary had ignored my calls for what seemed days now. In fact it may be closer to a week At first it made no great difference to me as I had other things on my mind. But now it was time to do something here. I needed to know if she wanted more or I was done and what I needed to do to get paid and see where and what to do about Joanne and the unanswered questions now swirling around like water going down the drain. I stood over the sink watching the last of the dish water disappear when the phone rang out in the other room. I dried my hands quickly as I made my way to the phone plugged into the charger by the outlet nearest the couch. I hesitated for a second with thoughts it might be Joanne and what I would say. The number was recognizably someone I had wanted to talk to.
"Hello Mary, How have you been?" My tone had an air of where the hell have you been, but discretion and the final draw held words back.
" I am sorry Sam. I know you called a few times." Her voice dropped for my response. It was her way to see how mad I was. After all it had been days. And she was hedging but why?
"Yeah, a few times. Are you alright?" I acted sincere as possible, knowing that I had the capability of telling someone off at the drop of a hat.
"Are you almost done,Sam?" Her voice was a bit broken and I felt pain. Something was wrong. But I decided to let her go with it.
"Yes Mary, I am about wrapped up here I am about to do the popcorn ceiling and then clean up. Is there anything that you might done before I finish up?"
"I don't know ,Sam, I.." She stopped in mid sentence about to say something.
"Is everything alright Mary?" This time I was sincere. It had tones and voice inflections that spelled trouble. I couldn't pass on pressing the issue now. I was in with both feet.
"Sam." She started and paused to find the right words. I held my breath as thoughts of bad news swirled. What the hell is wrong now I thought.
"Sam. I am having a hard time here." She stopped for me to pull her teeth. I hated pulling teeth or beating around the damn bush. My insensitive side wanted to blurt out, what the hell is it Mary. But I held back.
"Are you sick or did something happen Mary?" I wanted it to be that simple but it never is when your doing a job for someone and they start off with...I am having a hard time sort of discussion. I found myself unconsciously reaching for my wallet to see how much of the last draw was left.
"Well, not sick, but I do not feel good at all." Her voice now heavy and sounding downtrodden. Before I could ask another question she broke into a sob again. I recognized that sob. It was all to familiar to me.
"It will be alright Mary. Take your time and then tell me whats bothering you." I knew what was bothering her and tried to anticipate the whole following conversation to see where it was leading in my mind.
"Why didn't someone tell me before? Why Sam? Why?" She broke down once again and now it confirmed what I thought it was. Johnie Applegate. But where was this going?
"Mary, it is OK. Tell me why you are so upset? Please Mary, let me help you." I was pulling teeth now. I didn't even like dentists, let alone being one myself. The joke did little to help me feel better, in my mind.
"What am I going to do Sam. I can't live there knowing this." Again sobs.
"Just calm down and we can talk about this Mary, alright?" I held my breath and hoped it didn't involve the money she owed me. But I felt compassion for her. In a way, I understood her dilemma. Or at least I thought I did.
"Well Mary, you have invested in this place. It is really looking real good right now. It's a nice place that will make a fine home for you. You are close to the beach and all the things you love about here." A silence grew on the other end of the phone. I was reaching her. So I thought.
"You don't understand, Sam. I can't live there. I have nightmares even now and I am home. What do you think it will be like when I move in there?" She broke off to sob again. I sighed silently, while trying to find the right words.
"Mary, it was five years ago. What kind of nightmares are you having?" I wanted to say you aren't the only one and with that found myself in her shoes. Surely if she were to have happen to her what happened to me she would have a coronary. It wasn't funny at all. Why I held up so well was no indicator that anyone else, male or female would.
"I keep seeing him layng there dead and I am looking out my window helplessly. I can't live there Sam, you have to believe me!"
I thought long and hard as the phone slept silently in my hand. There was a lot of truth to what she was saying. But the reality of what she had in mind to do was not what I wanted to entertain. If I just asked about the money it would have seemed insensitive. But I had a right to know about getting paid. I didn't ask for the bad news about the murder. Perhaps I wouldn't even taken the job, but the point was , I did and now I am done. Sure I had money in the bank to fall back on. It didn't have to be about the money. There was a real concern here. I decided to put it aside and find out what she wanted to do, if she thought that far.
"Well Mary, think this out rationally. Just hear me out ,OK?" He weak voice acknowledged my request.
"You have a lot invested here Mary. The boy's death had nothing to do with you. It is just your own fears playing with you. It was five years ago and there is nothing going to happen to you by living here. I know for a fact that it going to be OK." I stopped for a second to wonder if I had said more then I should. Before I could continue she queried.
"What do you mean, you know for a fact? What fact Sam?"There was anger in her tone as if I had no idea what she was going through, and oh course I did not know what.
"Well. I know it will pass Mary. That is all I am saying. You will be happy here and the nightmares will go away!"
"You don't know that, how could you know any thing about it?" Her indignity toward my comments took me back. I was only trying to reassure her.
"Well what are you going to do Mary?" I couldn't help let the frustration show now. After all I was trying to help and now her focus was on me as if I had done something to stir this up. I stopped with those thoughts and wondered about that myself as she rattled off a few more sentences that I missed in the intermission. I dared not to ask what she had just said.
"I understand Mary!" I hoped my response fit her reply while drifting off into thought.
"No Sam, I don't think you do understand. I can't live there. And I won't!" She cried again and I just fell silent while it ran it's course. I had no response to that, and further the question about the final bill now seemed out of my jurisdiction.
A sinking feeling inside caught my guts and worked its way into a full knot below my belt. I walked to the cabinet and grabbed the half empty Old Crow, poured a tumbler full and awaited my fate. There was comfort here now. No feeling soothing water. No just more bullshit to deal with. Anger walked back into my heart a few steps as I sipped the grog, happy that there was some temporary comfort available. I wanted the bad news and I wanted it now. Now the long pause between sobs signaled the conversation was about to go down the road of no return. That place where you pull up your socks and hope for the best. The outlook to me seemed grim to say the least. My eyes scanned the room for a quick cleanup and packing the truck. But I wasn't ready to leave here. I gulped the rest of the tumbler and shook another measure loose.
"Sam?" Her voice had calmed and wanted my attention. I hesitated.
"Yes Mary?" My voice went flat.
"Don't be mad at me Sam. You have to believe me. I want to pay you. You worked hard and did a fine job. I just don't think I can live there."
I got the wanting to pay you part but somehow it was not so convincing. I waited for the but to come but...it didn't. So I ventured another hard swallow of bravery and slowly purred another question.
"Well Mary, what are you going to do then?" I was sharp and to the point.
" Do you like the house Sam?"
"Of course I do Mary. You have a great deal here. You have what? May be 8 or 9 thousand wrapped up here? Anyone would give an arm for a deal like that sweetie. Anyone. It's a great place to live. And it is paid for." My enthusiasm ran away down the street. After all it was a great place. And Oak Orchard wasn't all that bad now In fact it had begun to grow on me. She interrupted my thoughts and speech.
"Would you be interested in buying my house Sam." She firmly stated.
You could here a pin drop from 100 miles away. The question floored me. I tried to collect my answers. The ones between no way and well. I was stymied. I had not thought about staying except for a brief moment of estascy with Joanne. But I had nothing that I was really excited about back home. Hell it wasn't much of a home nor a business any more. No family and kids that kept in touch. And business was on such a down swing. I had come here to get away and clear my head. But all I got here was a head full of problems. At least they were different from what I was accustomed to. The problems were solved Sam, it is over. Why not stay for a while? My thoughts trailed away as I spoke.
"Mary, I would have to think about it. Really, this is a big thing your asking me. And what would happen to the money you still owe me? I am not trying to make it difficult for you, but it is a fair question, don't you think?" The timing was impeccable and the question well placed.
"I know Sam. I have thought this out these past few days. It was hard for me to ask you. But I can't come back there. I don't want to live there now. I can start over and find another place there if I want. There are plenty for sale. Look I will make this easy for you ,OK? I will have eight thousand in this when I pay you. Give me Eight Thousand and It's yours. That is a fair deal isn't it. I keep your final draw of Two thousand and you are paying ten for it."
I paused as the numbers sunk in, scanning the room and the hard work I had put into it. The room began to grow furniture in my mind, and I could see myself here. Here in Oak Orchard. It wasn't a bad place, nor a bad job. The damn place grew on me for sure. My smile filled my head with the thoughts of living here and starting over. I needed time to think about it for sure.
"Mary, give me a few more days here, alright? Let me think long and hard on this. It is a good and generous offer. I appreciate you doing this and I am sorry that you feel the way you do. Give it a few days, and may be you will have time to rethink this yourself. How does that sound to you?" I waited for her answer as a warm feeling gathered again to replace the knots. It wasn't turning out as bad as it seemed. It might be a good thing after all.
"I will call you in three days and we can talk Sam. Think about it. I would like to see you have the place rather then sell it. It is your hard work that you put in there. You deserve the first shot at it. I'll talk to you in a few days. Thanks Sam, really, thanks!"
"Bye Mary." The phone settled shut as it beeped for a full charge again. I sank onto the stool at the counter, grabbed one hand on my friend and sipped a mouthful. It was bitter sweet. The drink was too. It was all so bitter sweet.
Chapter 22
"Decisions"
Sunlight seeped into every available crack and dirty window pain of the room where I had slept for hours. The position of the light hitting me as I lie on the couch, still wrapped like a mummy in a sarcophagus, informed me that it was well past day light, perhaps well past noon even. I had been awake for some time, froze into position by both comfort and deep thought. Everything that was and is Oak Orchard, danced merrily across the frontal lobes of my brain; the back sides of my eyelids and painted its way across every inch of the rooms I remodeled. Mary's phone call and offer had me both perplexed and giddy with the opportunity. But it meant decisions on my part. Lots of decisions. I would have to start over again. Knowing no one here except for a few people along the way of this journey I had unwittingly been drawn into. It meant I would have to build a new business from scratch or just find a job with some local contractor if I stayed. And that was a big if. In many ways I wanted Mary to keep the house. Sure I had turned this uneven, crooked, off center, excuse for construction, into something that anyone would be proud to own. With some fresh paint and carpet, it would look new again. Or better for the very least. As I lay there I considered colors of paint and thoughts of tearing the front porch off and making it open again; where a few well placed rockers could accommodate both myself and a few guests, as well as a cat or two. Hell, may be even a small dog to lie at my feet and bark at the passing cars or the ill mannered vacationers that came from the mainland in the summer in droves They would come to both irritate the locals while the local shop owners lined their pockets, and provided income for the locals. I envisioned myself, feet kicked up on a hammock or wicker couch out on the porch, bare feet and all. The sun beaming through the trees and the warm summer breeze, shooting across the bay, directly to my front door. It would be my place, my home. And Joanne would roll around the corner with her big smile and wave as she trotted toward the house bearing gifts and food stuffs of all sorts. We would laugh and hold hands, and occasionally retire into the upstairs for some afternoon delight or just sit by the pot belly stove I would install in the living room for those cold winter nights, where no leaves upon the trees would allow that wind to seep through every left over and unattended crack that escaped the caulk and new insulation. I even thought about writing a book and tell this crazy story, but for sure the locals would brand me as a nut like some of the other odd balls around here. Besides the vacationers would find me and peer through my windows, hoping to catch me off guard, or worse yet, local kids would pull pranks and bother me at all hours of the night. No that idea was not such a good one Besides, I didn't want fame and fortune, just peace of mind and a fresh start. That's what I came here for after all, a fresh start.
"Time to get the hell up Sam." I unraveled my wrapping and let a out a yawn as I pulled on some clothes. Stood up, stretched, rolled to the kitchen counter to greet an old friend, held it up to read the label and chuckled.
"Old Fuckin' Crow! Crazy Indian!" I shoved the bottle back to the table and thought about the drinking too.
It had been a long hard road over the past several years since my wife and kids left. I had weathered the storm, but the road left me hardened in some ways. There was an emptiness inside my heart as well. I had spent too many lonely nights killing brain cells and memories of what my life was and had become. It was time to stop punishing myself. Time to pull up those boot straps and get on with life. May be even take a chance and start over. There was nothing really to go back to. Only a hand full of friends who despite my life, knew me for who I was am unconditionally were my true friends. They were few and far between.
I grabbed my phone to examine the time and found the day was nearly half over. It was quarter of twelve now and my stomach signaled a need for food as I searched for the instant coffee. I had slept for hours of much needed rest I might add. The long hours of work and the drama of Oak Orchard had wore me thin, literally. I thought about the book thing again as I sipped the hot and much needed coffee down, sitting at the counter. The back door open to the yard and place it all started. A warm breeze seeped through the dirty and rusted screen door as I wondered what a small deck on the back, complete with a barbecue pit out back would look like. The imagined smells of chicken and ribs on the grill, along with laughter and good times, danced across my imagination. And that damn squeaky door would have to go for sure! I looked off to the side of the door, on the window sill, where the can of WD 40, sat near empty. It was one hell of a story, but no one would believe it. Still I had to tell at least one person. Joanne knew bits and pieces, but I needed just one person who knew me to hear this thing. May be John Pennelli would listen and not make fun or Ray the barkeep.
"Forget it Sam, no one believes this kind of thing." I spoke out loud again as I picked the cup up for a tour of my masterpiece.
The two small rooms upstairs were alive with new drywall and trim. What had once been just a shoddy constructed attic storage was now two room that could be used properly for a bedroom and office. It was perfect for one or two people to live in. Despite the fact that you might fall head first to the first floor, going to find the bathroom in the middle of the night, it still provided what a single man needed. I kicked a piece of trim across the room and it echoed off the new baseboard, with a resonance that told me the trim was securely attached. I mused for a while as thoughts of where a small bed would sit, along with a dresser and other basics to make a room complete. My stomach had enough fill of coffee and I decided to go out to find some lunch.
The truck swung around the corner and down Bayveiw. Within minutes I roared out of Oak Orchard, with a sublet ,eerie feeling that I was doing something wrong. It was as if I should leave this place when the time was right. It was however a crazy thought. The whole thing is over. Or was it?
The restaurant had a fair lunch crowd as I eased in and onto a stool at the counter, glancing back and forth to see if any faces were recognizable. None were, so I ordered a sandwich and another coffee. The cream had barely settled into the cup of java as someone behind me entered the cafe. He was not stranger to the locals.
"Hey there Tom." One voice in the corner booth cried out.
"Hello Captain." Still another voice greeted the burly old salt.
There was no need for me to turn and greet Tom, as he placed himself next to me on the stool and let out his usual greeting.
"What's new flat-lander, Ha, ha, ha.?" His booming voice brought the attention of the whole lunch room as I felt all eyes on the back of my neck, all waiting for an answer. I could hear mumbling voices with questions of, who is that guy, in the background. I laughed as I turned to acknowledge him.
"Hi, Tom, you old squid." I laughed again as a few in the room followed suit. They were all ears.
"Seen your big friend around lately?" I glanced to reassure that all were still attentive before replying.
"Give it a rest ,Tom." I glared at him, so as to let him know that I was serious.
"Ha,ha,ha, OK flat lander." Tom bellowed.
"The name is Sam, Tom." I needed not remind him.
"OK, then,Sam." He replied.
The sounds of glasses clanging, forks scratching at final pieces of food, and the end of the quietness , told me they soon forgot our conversation and I could continue without an audience.
"Hey Tom, do you ever need to hire a man for help on your boat?" I asked in quietly.
"Who, you? Ha, ha." He amused himself with that.
"Tom, I was just wondering. What's wrong with asking you that? Sure I would be interested." Annoyance swelled at his lack of seriousness.
"What do you know about boats? Ha!" Tom grabbed his fresh coffee and gulped it down.
"About as much as you know about flat-landers, squid! Ha, ha." That shut him up for a minute or two.
Tom looked over the rim of his cup which seemed like a kids tea cup for a doll house, compared to the paw holding it. In fact his paws would have dwarfed those of Reddog, as I imagined for a minute the two of them rumbling around on the ground. He had a look of bewilderment as the idea sunk in that I was serious to a point.
"Ha,ha,ha." We both let a burst of laughter as the crowd again took notice.
" I'm a Squid ,huh?" Ha, Ha." Tom slapped me on the back and about jarred my teeth loose, not to mention almost spilling my coffee all over. The big guy had no sense of how strong he really was.
"So your gonna stay here , huh? Imagine that?" Tom returned to his drink as the waitress placed his meal in front of him.
"Hello Dora. He wants to stay here. Ha, ha." Tom glanced at me to signal to the waitress my intentions.
"Now I know how everyone in this town knows everyone else business. It's this big squid here isn't it?" The waitress looked at Tom and smirked, poured some fresh coffee into my cup and smiled at me.
"No, everyone makes it a point around here to know everyone else business. Welcome to Oak Orchard." She turned to Tom
"More coffee , squid?" Laughter erupted with her comments.
"Ha,ha. You want a tip from me you'll pour the coffee and get lost little girl." Tom growled with a rye smile.
Dora knew Tom well and after a bit more bantering, she left for the kitchen to pick up the next order. On the trip back through, she reminded Tom that he couldn't handle this little girl, which solicited more laughter and comments. It was good fun and I began to feel more a part of Oak Orchard. I could be a local if I just stuck my nose in everyone's business too.
"Ha,ha,ha!
Chapter 23
"Going Home"
I said goodbye to Tom and left the restaurant to find an old friend perched atop the cab of my truck. He had been standing sentry I guess with orders to return to Oak Orchard and finish this. I approached slowly with my keys dangling at my side but my staff Sargent was unmoved. Perhaps he was the very first crow that I met, the leader of them. He eyed me carefully, but stood his post as I reached for the door handle slowly.
"Don't tell me you can talk too?" I let a slight laugh out as the crow cocked his head and a beady eye glared into mine.
It was the damnedest thing I ever saw. Here within arms reach the crow stood motionless. It was a sure sign that it was not over yet and that my return to this strange place was necessary. I was glad the damn thing did not let out any sounds that would even remotely approach speech. I couldn't handle that now. I opened the door still eyeballing my guard, and slid into the truck. The motor roared to life as I tried to look out the top of the front window to see if he left. Lurched into drive and the crow finally flew out in front of me and on down the road toward home. The closer I got the more that followed suit, joining in to form a bizarre parade of crows and truck.
As I rounded onto Bayview again, those pleasant thoughts ran amuck, and I decided that a visit to Jo would be just the right thing now. I wanted to tell her everything about this place and the recent events, especially what Mary had said. As I neared her street the tree caught my eye and then thoughts of what was to happen to Reddog, filled the spaces between happy thoughts. It was not over yet. I wondered how it would all play out now. If I would have another task to do. My truck no sooner settled when Joanne's face appeared by the curtain again. She must be waiting for me I thought. She leaned against the open porch door with folded arms and a huge smile. A smile that was like magnet for my lips and behind them were words that I longed to hear. Her silhouetted body wrapped in a night gown appeared inviting. I could smell her in my mind as thoughts of being close again rushed in. I wanted be lost again in her eyes, lost again in our passion. When with her all thoughts vanished. She was a place of comfort. I stepped out of the truck to greet her with a kiss.
"Hello sweetie."
"Hi, Sam. What do I owe this pleasure to?" She grabbed my hand and led me inside.
Joanne had a way about her that was irresistible. Her charm reeled me in like a big game fish , hooked deep into the side of its jaw. There was no escape, only the sureness of being captured. I had been brought back to the dock, carefully weighed as a prize catch and about to be permanently mounted to the wall. Or lets just say mounted, shall we.
I had been picky over the years, but when I first saw those brown eyes, I was finished. She could have been a deaf mute for all I cared, and not said a word. But one look into those eyes and I knew it was over. The more time we spent together, the harder it was, because she was so much more of a woman then I had ever imagined possible. She was the complete package. There was not a single thing I could find wrong. She was flawless.
I tried in vain to explain the recent happening about Reddogs visit, and our conversation at the tree. In between kisses I found it ever increasingly hard to even form words, as all thoughts disappeared from my mind. It was a place I longed to be. Before I could tell about Mary's offer for the house, she led me up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. With each step she took, her inner thighs called for my immediate attention, and by the time that the top of the stairs was reached , I had about thrown off half my clothes. She turned without a word and embraced me with a kiss, dragging me into her lair. The passion had overtaken me now.
As she drew me back onto the edge of the bed I in turn pulled her flannel night gown over her smooth torso, to reveal what I lusted for, shortly after our last encounter. I was driven like a dog in heat, as I attached my mouth first to her lips and then her neck. With every inch I explored the more out of control I got. I suckled her breasts until I slowly bit each nipple, now at full attention. Her moans drove me to maddness as I launched my tongue down her stomach and deep into her inner thighs. Back and forth my tongue darted to find what I hungered for. The juice ran down her legs as I drove my tongue home where it belonged, deep into her moist lips. Her loud moans excited me into a feeding frenzy, as I sucked her juices out of every corner my tongue could find. Her hips thrust into my face, begging me to enter her. And without hesitation I dutifully gave her my deepest thrusts. The heat and passion engulfed my shaft as she threw back into my body with her hips. Joined as one, we writhed with the rhythm of drums beating out a war cry. There was no stopping now, as I pounded every inch of love deep within her. In turn she exploded and her juices flowed down my legs, signaling me she had reached that same place at exactly the same time. Her loud moan was accompanied by a low growl to echo into every board that held this place together. The sounds slowly fell into the silence of estascy as I reached for her mouth with mine to drift off and away into a kiss.
Within the hours that followed we encased ourselves with each others bodies. Drifting off to sleep and awakening again into a madness of passion. Her tongue exploring my every needs and finding new life to stab her insides with again and again. The hours wore on like there was not another day that existed. Time meant nothing and the only existence of life was within these walls and within her. Sweat poured out like a spicket of hot water, soaking the sheets and diluting the essence that rolled up into the sheets from our bodies. Until finally I ripped the sheets away, wrapped our naked bodies together in the comforter and within her comfort, together we drifted off into heaven.
As I awoke toward dawn, I found myself still wrapped into an embrace with my lover. Her soft skin against mine illicit ed tender kisses against soft tender flesh, as arousal woke her attention. Outside the window, faint, indiscernible noises crept in. They seemed to grow ever so slightly. It was voices of people outside, somewhere in the night. I dismissed it as a bit unusual, but uninteresting at the present. Jo was all I wanted and needed, Her attention was mine. The silent whispers grew louder as a siren roared into Oak Orchard. Then another. We paused for a brief moment and Jo spoke to me.
"What is that Sam?" I kissed her neck again and whispered into her ear.
"It's nothing, sweetie, probably a fire." Truth was I was still very interested in what was about to continue.
Jo sat up as the sounds of more cars raced into town and slid to a stop. Doors slammed, and voices called out instructions to others. In the window, once painted black with night, now awash with flashing lights. It was close, very close.
"Sam, get up, its somewhere close." Before I could answer, she jumped from our den and out onto the floor, struggling with pajamas, robe and slippers to cover her beautiful body, As I sat up naked and watched, puzzled.
"Where are you going Jo? Come back to bed, honey. They can handle it." My idea of love making did not include a trip directly from bed, to a fire. "Where are you going to? A fire sweetie?" I mused in disbelief that she had left me alone in bed and now headed toward the steps.
"Its not funny Sam, get up, something wrong and its right here." She hollered determined to see what was happening, as she danced down the stairs.
Annoyed a bit, I dutifully obeyed, still under her spell and direction. I stood and withdrew the curtain with hopes the answer lied directly outside the window and I could reassure her to come back upstairs and rejoin me. But no such luck appeared. Only more flashing lights and more chatter, just out of sight.
I dragged my self to the first floor with hopes of coffee lingering in the air, when Jo approached the front door and summoned me on. Reluctantly, but without much thought, I shuffled toward her, still groggy from the passion.
The still dawn air slapped my face, as we dove out onto the porch and into the street. At the top of the street, an ambulance, lights flashing, but siren silent, slowly eased into position just past the end of the street. The early morning sky had no telltale signs of that orange glow, nor and smells of burning furniture and other household items, that were always distinct with a house on fire. As we stepped closer to catch a view, the morning light began to illuminate everything ever so slightly, painting an eerie back drop to the flashing lights, mixed with a slight fog. A familiar sound now struck my ears as we rounded the corner and there, near the big oak tree, people were gathered. State police, locals and something else. The tree was alive with crows. On every available branch, they screeched and cawed wildly, taunting the onlookers. The hair on my neck stood and froze to attention as finally I saw and knew why their frenzied caws
sang out. It was the announcement of death and they stood poised to return someone to where they belonged. But who?
Jo grabbed my arm and gasped at the sight of the lifeless body, now dangling from a firm branch above the great root that held the tree fast to the ground. The same root that had been there for centuries. The same root I sat upon many nights, as the Great One spoke to me, and I listened intently. Now plain clothes police, bent over the ground below him and other carefully examined him where he hung. He was a big man, and very familiar looking to me, his long dark hair draped over his face, arms limp at his side. I strained to look closer, fighting through the growing crowd with Jo in tow. A sick feeling grew in my stomach as thoughts of someone I had just spoke with entered my mind. Jo asked I local woman as we made our way closer and closer.
"Jo, do you remember Reddog?" With that I stopped abruptly and turned my attention to her.
"Yes, I know him!" She looked silently at me and then back to Jo.
"It's his son, the crazy one. What was his name?" They both looked down to recall a name that surely was not in the ground they searched.
John! John Little Rabbit, they called him. That's it!" They agreed as I turned once again to examine the lifeless body.
"I didn't know he had a son." I ventured.
"They kept him away from others. People said he was wild and crazy. He didn't have many friends." The neighbor explained as I listened intently.
The crows continued there song in a macabre tone that sent chills deep into you. They seemed to defy the crowd and raised a pitch as a lone truck limped down the top of the street, pulled in back of a cruiser, and doused its headlights. The large figure behind the wheel was no stranger to this town, as eyes of onlookers pointed and conversed as he dispatched from the truck and approached slowly toward his son, and the awaiting policemen. I pushed my way closer to the fense nearest the scene, to get within ear shot of Reddog. Jo pulled at me to stay and asked to go back home, but not now. Not ever! The pain in my guts swelled now to its limit as I knew that this had been why I came here. Directly in my sight was the culmination of every walk at night, every voice I heard, every instruction given by unseen forces and entities. It was the circle of life and only I and perhaps now Reddog knew what had really taken place. I called out to him.
"Reddog!" Without breaking stride he glanced to his left where now poised at the fence, I solicited his attention and back toward the troopers and his son.
Reddog reached for something in his back pocket, drew it out and handed it to the detective. It was a note and in turn the officer handed Reddog something that was just taken from his sons pockets, that they had scoured just minutes back. Reddog looked into the palm of the officers hand, then slowly grabbed the items and returned them to his pocket. He looked off to the side in my direction, paused and then looked down into the earth, while the detective examined the note for a few minutes, then motioned for his flunkies to cut Reddogs son down from the tree. As the body was lowed to finally reside onto the ground, the crows screamed once more and flew off in silence. Everyone stopped to stare at this strange occurrence and for just one slight moment in time all else stopped and ceased to exist. Reddog knew why as did I. As Reddog and others watched the crows off into the distance, a lone crow stood guard atop the great tree. A slow raspy sound gurgled from within it as Reddogs eyes looked heaven ward and then back toward me. It was done. An officer drew near the opening to the park and summoned the ambulance to back into place as another backed the crowd away. Reddog grabbed a card from the detective, nodded and walked in my direction. The crowd backed away as he approached me, reaching into another pocket and produced a letter.
"Thank you Sam. Read this and you will understand our ways." Silently his paw dug into the other front pocket and reached out for mine. "Take these now. They belong with you." I greeted his hand and two stones dropped back into my palm. One white as pure snow, one black as night. I stared down into them as whispers in the distance called out to me. It was the sounds of young boys playing together, happy now because they were home. Reddog looked off into the distance too, then back at me and smiled. He had heard it too.
"Goodbye Sam." He smiled and walked back toward his truck, sat for a minute and then eased away up the road.
I tore the envelope open and found a photograph of hi great grand mother. The one he so much admired. On the back was a note. It was her name, Ocaquamoen, that meant ' the one who is here' Sam. Then below it was the name given me, by Nakima, Onaquacome, meaning, 'the one who was meant to come here'. Below that were the words, Sam it is the same name, it is the circle of life. Now the baddness upon our family is gone. I stared in disbelief for a moment and then handed the photo to Jo.
By now it was 7:30. and as the ambulance slowly past, the phone in my pocket rang. I drew it out, looked briefly to see who it was, then answered.
"Hello Mary, how are you?" I looked at Joanne as she stopped to listen in to the conversation.
We walked slowly back to the road leading home while we briefly talked. Finally I stopped and smiled at Jo and spoke once more into the phone.
"I'll take the house, Mary. Thank you."
The phone closed with a sharp snap as the realization found its way into Joanne. She sprung into my arms and embraced with a kiss. The lone crow atop the great tree let out a long loud caw to say goodbye Sam and goodbye to Oak Orchard. We turned to bid him farewell and smiled at each other.
"Can we go home now Jo?"
The End
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