Burnt Mountain (26 page)

O
n Friday morning after our dinner with Big Jim Mabry, I woke soon after 6:00 a.m., my hair drenched with sweat, my nightgown
twisted around me, the damp sheets nasty on my bare flesh. Hot. My God, it was hot. We had not used the air-conditioning system;
it had been a cool spring and there was almost always a little night wind off the river. But as if a great internal engine
had simply stopped somewhere in the earth, everything had stilled and the monstrous heat had slid in ghostlike.

Beside me, Aengus slept on, immovable and serene, as he always did. No air stirred on my nakedness; there was an overhead
fan, but we had not used that, either. I had only to get up and turn the wall switch on and we would have moving air, but
somehow I could not make my limbs move; I felt as if something vital had bled out of them and into the heat.

It isn’t supposed to be really hot near water, I thought crossly, feeling betrayed by the river. I lay thinking about this.
My father had always said it when my mother complained about the heat in Lytton. And we had had vicious summer heat there;
I remembered that we had, but somehow I could not seem to feel that long-ago heat now. I had never really felt it. I know
my father didn’t, either.

“You two were born without sweat glands, I swear,” Mother said petulantly. “It’s not natural.”

I could remember no really hot days at Sewanee, either. The Mountain and the Steep undoubtedly had something to do with that.
And camp? My mind slid slowly, reluctantly, back to the summers at Camp Sherwood Forest. I did not want to go there, had not
for years gone there, but I was too listless to pull my mind back. There had been water there, of course, the lake, and I
remembered the cold of it, and the clean, fishy smell, and even the sun-scorched planks of the dock under my back and legs….
Nick. Oh, God, Nick. Had I ever seen sweat running down his face? I could not remember sweat, only the face…. And after, in
the top bunk… No, there had been no sweat.

I got out of bed and pulled on shorts and a tee shirt and went, barefoot, down the driveway to the mailbox on the street.
I would read the paper and have my coffee on the veranda, and perhaps by that time a breeze would have sprung up. I really
did not want the air-conditioning. I hated the feel of a closed house in summer.

I had just pulled the newspaper out of the mailbox when I heard the grinding and shifting of gears and the surly growl
of a big engine starting up our hill from the river. I stood still and watched. I thought I knew what it would be, and it
was: the bus that took the little Woodies to camp. It was a regulation bus size and either new or freshly painted; its white
enamel gleamed in the hazy sun.
Camp Forever
was written in dark blue script on its side. It was the most tasteful bus imaginable, I thought sourly.

As it drew alongside me I heard the children singing, “The Cannibal King with the big nose ring fell in love with a dusky
maid….” Lord, didn’t they know any other camp songs? What was wrong with “Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall” for instance?
Only it would have to be lemonade, I guessed. Or, of course, Co’-Cola.

As if cued, the children all looked at me as the bus lumbered past, but none waved except the bus driver. He turned his face
to me and smiled and held up a forefinger, as country people often do by way of greeting. He had a pleasant, snubbed face,
red and peeling from sun, and a thatch of ginger hair showed under his Camp Forever cap, which was turned around bill backward.
I lifted my hand in return, and he went back to his driving and to singing lustily, “And every night in the pale moonlight
across the lake he’d wade….” They ground out of sight up the hill toward the expressway, but, ” ‘Aye-oomph! Aye-oomph! Aye-oomph-tiddy-i-dee-aye-ay!’
” floated back to my ears as if reluctant to let go of me.

When I got back to the house Aengus was in the kitchen making coffee.

“Hot enough for you? As I don’t believe I have ever said to you, have I?”

“No, you haven’t, and yes, it is,” I said. “It’s really awful. I don’t remember heat like this before.”

“And you born and bred in Georgia?” he said, handing me a cup of coffee. “Turn on the air-conditioning, for God’s sake. Or
go jump in the river.”

“I don’t want to do either one,” I said childishly, and then laughed. “What I really want to do is sit here and whine.”

“Well, whine away, my dear. But I’m turning on the air when I get home and no arguments. We could maybe go out to dinner.”

“I don’t want to do that, either. Oh, I saw your camp bus when I went out to get the paper. Mighty fancy for a kids’ camp.”

“Consider whose kids,” Aengus said. “Did you see the driver? Big Jim said he was new.”

“Yeah. He looked about thirteen and was singing ‘The Cannibal King’ along with the rest of them. Somebody ought to teach those
kids some other camp songs.”

“Maybe I’ll do that when I go up tomorrow night,” he said. “Really nasty ones, like ‘Roll Your Leg Over.’ “

I remembered then that he was going up to Camp Forever at Big Jim’s behest to tell Celtic tales to the Riverwood young. For
some reason this made me crosser even than the heat.

“If you can sit around a fire in this you’re a better man than I thought,” I grumped.

“I thought you thought I was already a great man.”

“I do. Don’t listen to me. I guess I got up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“There’s no wrong side of a bed with you in it, babe,” he said. He kissed me on the cheek. “Gotta go shave. Just some cantaloupe
would be great for breakfast.”

“I don’t have any,” I said with satisfaction, but he had gone into the bathroom and could not hear me.

I fiddled restlessly with answering letters and making a shopping list, then took a cool shower and pulled my heavy roan hair
back in a ponytail and felt better.

Just after lunch Carol Partridge called.

“Thayer? Listen, could you possibly take Bummer for a while this afternoon?” she said. Her voice was not her own; it was tight
and cracked.

“Of course I can,” I said. “Is anything the matter?”

“No… yes. Ben and Chris are in Juvie; the police just called. I’ve got to go get them out, and I don’t want to take Bummer
down there.”

“Oh, Carol, what happened?”

“The little bastards and their cronies went into that ratty little grocery place next to the theater up in the multiplex and
pointed water guns at that crazy old fool who runs it and ran out with three huge boxes of fudgesicles. And when the old guy
ran after him they shot him! With water pistols! Of course he called the police before they even got out the door, and he
knows most of them, and at first he was going to press charges. Oh, God, their father is going to sue me for custody; I know
he is. Anyway, if you could just oversee Bummer, this shouldn’t take me long. I just have to pay their fines and spring them.”

“Send him on. It’ll be a joy. And come by when you get back, if you can. I’ll give you a drink.”

It was scarcely fifteen minutes before Bummer came trailing through the hedge to the veranda, dragging a kite behind him and
licking an ice-cream bar.

“Hey, Thayer. Miz O’Neill,” he said. “I was going to fly this kite, but Mother says there’s not enough wind. Did you know
my brothers are in the juvie? They stole a bunch of fudgesicles. This isn’t one of them,” he said matter-of-factly, looking
down at his melting bar. “This is vanilla. Theirs were chocolate. I don’t know what happened to them.”

I hugged him, wincing at the sound of “juvie” coming so easily out of his ice cream-smeared mouth.

“I heard,” I said. “I’m sorry. Maybe this will calm them all down a little.”

“Fat chance,” he said. “Would you like to go over to my house and go swimming?”

The thought of the broiling sun on the pool apron and Bummer’s inevitable shouts of “Marco Polo!” roiled in my stomach.

“I don’t think so, thanks,” I said. “But you know what I’d like to do? I’d like to go to the theater up at the multiplex.
I think Harry Potter’s on.”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “That’d be cool. I’ve seen them all, but I’d like to see them again. Is it the one where their teacher
turns into a werewolf, or the one where all those brains come floating at them?”

“We’ll soon see,” I said. “Me, I vote for the brains.”

“Well, the werewolf was pretty cool, too. They had to fire him because of it, but he was really a good guy.”

“I guess some werewolves are,” I said, and we went up to the multiplex and dove deep into the chilled air and the utter
enchantment of the boy wizard and his friends and their sorceried world. At some point I thought, This would be the way to
live. Where nothing that happened really surprised you, because it was all magic anyhow. And even if it was bad, a brave kid
with round black glasses could come and fix things.

When we got home, Aengus was there, drinking iced tea on the veranda. Bummer went immediately into his Harry Potter reenactment,
and I slumped gratefully into a rocking chair. It was still breathlessly hot, but the long shadows over the browning lawn
gave the illusion of coolness. I had scarcely finished a glass of iced tea and given Bummer some lemonade when Carol came
through the hedge.

For one startled moment I thought she had somehow fallen into water. Her hair was drenched, plastered to her head. Her shirt
and slacks were sticking to her skin. Her face, too, had the greenish-white, puckered look skin gets when it has been a long
time in water. I rose to my feet; so did Aengus. Bummer, soaring high above Hogwarts on his broom, did not notice.

“Carol…”

She looked down at herself and then forced a smile. It might have been a rictus of pain.

“Just to put the finishing touch on this glorious day, the air conditioner in the SUV is out and we’ve been stuck in Friday
afternoon traffic for over an hour.”

“Sit down, and let me bring you something cold….”

“No,” she said wearily. “I’ve got them under virtual house arrest next door, but I don’t know how long I can enforce it. You
were wonderful to take Bummer.”

She was about to crumple, perhaps literally.

“Let me come home with you and Bummer,” I said. “I’m not heavy-duty, but I’ve got staying power. I’m good backup.”

She shook her head. “No. I think tonight’s covered. All the other parents are hanging tough on this; none of the kids are
going out. But I might need Aengus sometime late tomorrow. Just a stern man’s face, like showing the flag. They need to realize
I’ve got resources, too… oh, God. This shouldn’t be happening. I shouldn’t even think about getting you all involved in my
problems with my damned children.”

She dropped her face into her hands.

Aengus went over and put his arm around her shoulder. “I’ll be your resource whenever you need me, but I can’t tomorrow night.
I promised Big Jim Mabry I’d go up to that camp of his and tell tales around the fire. But any other time.”

She leaned into him, nodding her head that she understood. Then she lifted her head and her face suddenly blazed.

“Aengus, can you get Big Jim to take the boys into that camp? I know it’s supposed to be just for their kids, but it sounds
like just what Ben and Chris need. The way those kids change… Aengus, please. If you ever wanted to do anything for me, do
this one thing. Big Jim can make that happen; he may be the only one who can! I could pay—”

“Hush,” Aengus said, hugging her again. “Hush. There’s no question of anybody paying anybody. Of course I’ll ask him. But
I thought they hated the idea of camp—”

“I will get them there if I have to do it at gunpoint,” Carol said. From her tone I thought she well might.

Bummer came trotting up, covered in sweat and grass stains.

“Hi, Mom. We went to see Harry Potter. It was the werewolf one. Did they put handcuffs on Ben and Chris?”

“Oh, Bummer, of course not! Come on. We’ve got to get back.”

They turned to go home and I said, “Listen, why don’t I come over and keep you company tomorrow evening for a little while?
Aengus is staying over and it’s the first time he’s ever left me alone.”

I looked at him and smiled; he grimaced and then smiled back.

“I’ll bring supper,” I said.

“I’d love that,” she said, managing a watery grin. “I’ll make dessert. We can slide it under their doors.”

Over dinner Aengus and I talked about Carol and her children.

“I don’t really know how bad it is,” I said. “I don’t know what kids do today. I know she’s convinced her ex will sue for
custody if this goes on. No matter how she jokes about them, I know that she’s crazy about her kids. I wish I could think
of something we could do to help her. Maybe it’s just their age….”

“It’s bad enough,” Aengus said. “Bad enough at least to make me glad they aren’t mine. The police and the famous juvie aren’t
just mischief level. They’ll be in real trouble if they get involved with the cops again. Those kids just don’t realize how
good they’ve got it. Carol is a sweetie, and they have a great house, and a pool—”

“And a father who just took off and left them flat,” I said.

“Yeah. There’s that. Half the problem, at least. Still… I don’t know if that camp is the answer.”

“I know; it’s enemy territory. But if there
is
such a real difference in the kids who come back from it…”

“I’ll ask, of course. Meanwhile, I’m going to turn on the air and send you to bed. You’ve had a tough day. I need to fiddle
around with whatever I’m going to do tomorrow night, but I’ll be up before long.”

But by eleven o’clock he had not come to bed and I could stay awake no longer. The blessed cool of the air conditioner and
the freshness of the new sheets I had put on the bed claimed me as surely as sleeping pills would have, and when I finally
woke the next morning he was in the shower singing something mournful and Celtic and the clock said 8:15.

When he left for Coltrane he was carrying, in addition to his briefcase, a small weekend bag. It looked as if it had seen
a great many weekends in its life. I knew that he was spending the night at Camp Forever, of course, but still that bag spoke
to me, absurdly, of loss.