Pie Town (16 page)
Authors: Lynne Hinton
T
he boy has moved closer to me. He sees me in a new way now, knows me in a deeper sense. He already has knowledge well beyond what I had when my body was in his state. He is smart that way. I suppose he always has been. I have heard the old ones mention that being born with a physical body so frail, so slow to thrive, stimulates the manifestations of other experiences. Perhaps they know best.
I remain near. I have heeded the warnings and not stepped in like before. I have not eased the pain in his legs or opened the constricted airways to help him breathe better. I have not brought home those who wander. I have not entered the dreams of others. I do not slow down the rate of his heartbeat or pry open the weary eyes of those who give him care. I let them sleep. At least for now. I let him bid his farewells in his own way, and I do not interrupt. I cannot promise my resolve, however, will last.
Ah, I had such hope for this town, this family, this boy. I had such confidence in the foundation of this place, the brown earth, the velvet sky, the plains and mountains. I believed in the landscape of those who live here, the hearts of those who love more than they fear. I had such longing for life to flourish in this place, for mercy to stand unguarded and compassion to walk upright and proud. I hoped for goodness to thrive, for all that is lovely to bloom and grow, for truth to be held up by everyone.
But now fire has ravished hope. Ashes are all that remain, and I am forbidden to bring to life that which is dead.
He makes his own way now, and all I can wish is that somehow he can do in these last faint whispers of his small, unlived life what cannot be done from beyond.
R
oger stood at the steps leading to the front door of his tenant’s apartment. It was late in the afternoon, a few days after the fire, and he knew he had waited as long as he could to make this official visit. He never cared much for this kind of conversation to begin with, but he especially didn’t want to have this particular one because Alex, still frail and weak from his illness, had begged him to wait and just let Trina come to him.
Roger still wasn’t sure why Alex had been so upset about his plan to ask the girl a few questions. He had tried to explain that he wasn’t accusing Trina of starting the fire. He just had heard that she was seen around the time of the fire near the church and wanted to ask what she knew.
Alex, however, had insisted that the town was blaming their newest resident, and that for the sheriff to go visit her and ask her point-blank about the night of the fire was to take sides with those spreading the rumors. Roger had not even intended for Alex to know that he was planning to talk to Trina, but the boy had overheard his grandparents’ conversation after Roger stopped by to check on Malene and Alex and to bring them a few things he had bought from the grocery store. Some items were on sale, and as he usually did, he had stocked up on foods that he knew were favorites of his ex-wife and his grandson.
The two of them were going through the bags when Alex got out of bed and into his chair and wheeled himself into the kitchen. It was then that Roger was telling Malene the latest from the fire investigation. Alex already knew as much as everyone else, maybe a bit more, since he had been awake when the sirens started and before the fire engine roared through town and down his street. He had called out to Malene and made her get up from bed and call Roger to make sure nothing had happened to the sheriff or to Trina or to anyone they loved. Roger had promised the boy that he would report what he knew when he knew it, and he had stuck to his word. He stopped by Malene’s on his way home from the fire and told them everything.
Roger had explained that the church was a total loss. The fire and smoke had destroyed most of the building, and what wasn’t burned was damaged from the water. There was not much left but a couple of pews, the sign in the front yard, and the marble altar, a gift from the diocese when the church was first built. The good news was that Father George was not in the sanctuary at the time of the fire. He was asleep, and the rectory was spared.
Bernie and the priest did what they could to keep the fire contained. When Father George attempted to run into the sanctuary and save the hand-sewn paraments and the sanctuary Bible, the consecrated elements, and a few of his vestments, Bernie stopped him, explaining that the church was too old, it was burning too fast, and the fire was just too hot. Even though the pastor’s office wasn’t burning at the time and the priest fought with the rancher to get in there, when a beam in the ceiling fell Bernie decided that it was just too dangerous to go in. Father George could finally only watch as all of his books and notes, his ordination gifts and remembrances, his handwoven stoles and custom-made robes, his sermon files and his certificates—all that was sacred and meaningful to him—were lost to the flames.
Once the firefighters had put out the fire and the smoke had cleared, Roger walked with George through the ruins, where they found a few things. A chalice and plate given to him, George explained, by the priest in his hometown, a long silver cross blessed by the pope that he wore on Sundays, a few photographs in frames he had kept on his desk, and a crucifix someone had given him from a mission trip in Mexico. That was all that was spared, and as he walked and searched he clutched these few belongings to his chest. Father George was so clearly distraught by what had happened that Roger left him to himself. No one else dared tried to comfort him with promises of replacements or anything to do with the business of insurance. They figured it was best to leave him alone as he continued sifting through the ashes, trying to find the things he had lost.
By the end of the following day, it was clear to the sheriff and the members of the Catron County Fire Department that the fire was started by a couple of candles left burning too close to the altar cloths that had been folded and placed on the altar after being cleaned by members of the Altar Guild. The fire, it was determined, started around 1:00
A.M.
and was finally put out, the last flames extinguished, at 6:15
A.M
. The sun was just beginning to rise as the first responders were leaving the scene and as the townspeople drove up the hill and around the curve to see the damage from what was already being called the Holy Family Fire.
There was other news about the night of the fire, news that was commonly known and shared by Roger with Alex and Malene. Mass had been held at five o’clock that evening. A meeting of the prayer shawl group had been held from 6:00 to 7:30
P.M.,
and the last member to leave, Cora West, shut the back door of the church at 7:45
P.M
. She left only after turning out all of the lights and checking all the doors, making sure they were closed and locked. She could not recall whether any windows were left opened but was confident that no one had entered through an unlocked door and that there were no candles burning when she made her exit.
Later, when the captain of the fire department was finally able to locate and speak to the priest, Father George confirmed that he had left the sanctuary after Mass, blowing out the altar candles, and had not returned to the church anytime that evening. He had been in the rectory, he reported, for the rest of the evening, working at his desk and talking on the phone. He did not know of any other meetings being held in the church after the prayer shawl group. The fire captain told Roger that he wanted to press for more information, but he chose not to ask any further questions. It was clear that Father George was deeply affected by the fire and his own personal losses.
What also became clear—to the captain, a thirty-year veteran fireman from Fence Lake, to the sheriff, and to everyone else who heard the news about the Holy Family Fire—was that Bernie King had discovered the fire and called it in and that someone had been in the church after Mass and the meetings, lit candles, and left them burning. Beyond that known and accepted bit of information, there were only speculations, and there were quite a few of them.
When Roger heard the two reports about Trina being in the vicinity, one from Danny White, his deputy, who saw the girl in the truck with Rob Chavez heading in that direction around 9:30
P.M.,
and the other from Bernie, who was sure it was Trina he saw walking in the fields away from the church around 1:00
A.M.,
he explained to Malene, thinking that Alex was not listening, he made a plan to visit his tenant later that afternoon. That was when Alex had wheeled himself into the kitchen and begged his grandfather not to ask the girl questions, not to treat her as a suspect or even as a person of interest, a phrase he had learned from the years of hearing about Roger’s work.
Roger had tried to assure Alex that the visit would not be an investigation and that he was not making any assumptions about Trina’s whereabouts at the time of the fire. He was only following up on a few stories that were going around, he tried to explain, and he promised he would not try to intimidate or scare Trina and that he would treat her the same way he would treat anyone else he thought might have information about the fire.
Roger stood at the bottom of the steps to Trina’s apartment and remembered the conversation he’d had with his grandson.
“I’ve asked everyone the same questions,” Roger said to Alex. “I’m not accusing anybody. I’m just trying to find out the facts, see if anyone knows something that can help us figure out what happened. I’m sure whoever started it didn’t mean to leave candles burning. I’m sure it was an accident, and I’m just trying to learn the facts.”
Alex shook his head. “Everybody already thinks she did it,” he said. His face was flushed, and Roger was worried that the boy was getting too upset.
“Who thinks she did it?” Roger asked, unsure of what his grandson knew.
“Danny does,” he answered.
“How do you know that?” Roger asked.
“I heard him talking to Christine when I went with Grandma to work. He saw Trina in the truck with Rob Chavez, and he thinks they went to the church together to make out.” Alex had his right hand balled into a fist.
“Well, first of all, Danny should not be talking to anybody else about what he thinks about a case.” Roger glanced over at Malene, who shrugged. She didn’t know about this conversation. “And secondly, Danny doesn’t know if Trina started the fire.”
“He thinks she did it,” Alex said, shaking his head. “And so does Mr. King and Ms. Francine.”
This news surprised Roger. “What makes you say that?” he asked, wondering how his grandson had so much information.
“Papa and I went to the diner, and they talked about it. Mr. King says he saw her walking in a field about the time he saw the fire, and Ms. Francine made that kind of clucking noise she makes when she talks about people in trouble.” The boy looked as if he was about to cry. “It only takes a couple of people telling stuff and folks believe the worst.” He turned to Roger. “You can’t let them say these bad things.”
Roger glanced away. He wished he could stop this kind of gossip, but he knew that the law, unfortunately, couldn’t stop folks from talking. He was about to explain this when Alex spoke again.
“It’s the same thing they did to Mama,” he said, and both Malene and Roger turned quickly to the boy.
They didn’t respond.
“I know the things they said about her,” he explained. “You thought I never heard, but I did. I know they thought she was bad for having me and not having a husband. And I know they still think she’s bad, and I know you got divorced because somehow all the bad things that people said made you quit believing in each other.” Alex leaned back in his chair. It was clear that he was exhausted.
Roger dropped his head, recalling that Malene had tried to comfort their grandson, that she was finally able to get him back to bed, and Roger himself had promised him that he wouldn’t let the things that people were saying influence him in his thoughts about or actions toward Trina. Alex had finally fallen asleep, but not before he shook his head and whispered, “They’re going to run her off.”
The sheriff was just about to turn around and go back to his house, choosing not to make the visit, to put off the conversation he knew he had to have, when Trina opened the front door and glanced down.
“Hey, Roger,” she said, smiling, not at all alarmed to see him there. “You coming up?”
I
need to talk to Rob.” Katie stood outside the boys’ locker room just after school and just before football practice.
“He’s getting dressed,” the equipment manager explained and was about to shut the door in the girl’s face.
Katie caught the door before it closed. “No, you need to tell him that I have to talk to him.”
The manager, Billy Owens, a freshman, had just started his job with the football team, and he tended to waffle in his decision-making. He knew that the quarterback would not be pleased to have his girlfriend call him out of the locker room before practice, and that if the other players found out they would give him a hard time, but he also knew that Katie was best friends with Nichole Barrett, and Nichole Barrett’s younger sister was Iris, the girl he had had a crush on since fifth grade.
He knew he risked being reprimanded by Rob if he did what she asked, but he also knew this could be beneficial when it came to the girl of his dreams. Maybe, he thought, if I do this for Katie, she’ll remember and mention it to Iris. He paused, looking at the girl, then looking behind him in the locker room. He figured he could tell Rob and not let the other players know. He made up his mind.
“All right, wait right here,” Billy said.
Katie backed away from the door and leaned against the wall. She knew Rob wouldn’t be pleased to see her, would probably even yell at her for calling him out of practice, but she needed to tell him what she had just overheard. She needed reassurance that nothing had changed, that their stories were still reliable, and that no one knew what really happened the night of the fire. Katie felt her neck start to itch, and she knew it was turning red. She always broke out in hives when she got nervous. She glanced around to see if anyone was watching and took a deep breath.
Finally the door opened. “What do you want?” Rob asked, surprised to see her. Apparently, the manager had not told him who wanted to see him, only that someone had asked for him in the hallway. “I told you not to come here.” He looked up and down the hall, making sure they were alone.
“I know, I’m sorry,” she said. She reached up to scratch her neck and then reached out to take Rob’s hands.
He yanked his hands away. “I said, what do you want?” he asked again, sounding perturbed.
Katie stepped back. “I heard Debbie Crawford telling some girls that she knew your truck was at the church the night of the fire,” she said. She pulled her hair around to the front, trying to hide her neck.
“Everybody knows my truck was at the church that night,” he said, looking angry. “I told the police I took Trina there. They know that,” he said again. “Everybody knows that.”
“I know,” Katie said. “I’m just . . .” She shook her head. “I just think somebody’s going to find out,” she whispered, glancing around.
Rob stepped toward her and grabbed her by the arm. “I told you, nobody is going to find out as long as you keep your mouth shut,” he said. “Everybody thinks she did it, so just shut up about it.”
Katie looked down. “I’m, I’m just scared,” she said.
Rob sighed and grabbed her other arm, pulling her into him to reassure her. He whispered in her ear. “Nobody knows we were there,” he said, “and that’s the way it will stay. Nobody saw us there. Nobody can prove we were there. We’re the only ones who know. But,” and he pulled away and stared her straight in the eyes, placing both hands on her face, “if you keep whining like this, somebody is going to get suspicious. So stop it. It’s fine.”
“Everything all right out here?” Coach Simpson had rounded the corner and was making his way to the locker room. “Chavez, you planning to practice football or get a room?”
“Sorry, Coach,” Rob replied, dropping his hands and stepping back into the locker room. He didn’t even say good-bye, just left Katie standing right where she was while the coach watched.
“Young lady,” Coach Simpson said with a nod as he followed his star quarterback.
Katie stood at the door as it closed in front of her, feeling stupid for being there. She had expected that kind of reaction from Rob. He never wanted her around when he was practicing football or playing football, except in the stands with other fans. He didn’t even want her around when he was talking football with his friends. He claimed he cared about her more than anything, even sports, but once school started, it was obvious that she was not his first love.
She stood there, scratching her neck, and waited. She wanted to knock on the door again and call him back out and explain that people were still talking and that some of her friends had asked her about Rob and Trina and even though he had said nothing had happened between the two of them, even though he claimed he had only met her during the summer and had spoken to her a few times and that he had seen her walking and offered her a ride that night, she just needed a little more reassurance from him. She couldn’t seem to stop worrying about Rob and that girl and the night of the fire. She had thought she was fine, and she hadn’t felt nervous for weeks, but ever since school started she was anxious that someone would find out about what had really happened that night at Holy Family Church.
Weeks had passed and she regretted everything about that night. She regretted letting Rob in the house with his bloody lip and believing his pitiful story about getting hit at practice, she regretted sneaking out after her parents had gone to bed, and mostly she regretted agreeing with him to let him take her to the church. The entire night had been a mistake, and she wished she could take it all back, wished she had never answered the door, and wished most of all that she had never left the house.
Rob had been all hands when he stopped by, and she worried that her parents would come down to the basement and catch them. When she kept telling him to hush and to stop, that he was going to wake her mom and dad, he had pulled his keys out of his pocket and told her that he had a great place for them to go. Katie had not wanted to leave the house, but he was so persistent, and she had felt bad for him because of his lip, and deep down she worried that she had made him wait too long. He just seemed so needy. She worried that if she didn’t go with him and didn’t have sex with him, she would lose him. And Katie did not want to start school any other way than as Rob Chavez’s girlfriend.
Once they had parked his truck down the road from the church and walked through a field to the back door, she was feeling less anxious about it, even a bit excited. He had promised her this would be the most special night of her life, and it was in lots of ways. When they got there, Rob had been so tender with her. He lit candles and spread a blanket on the floor. He had told her that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and that having sex would make their love even more special. He had promised her that his last year in school would be their best and that she would be a part of his new life when he went to college, while she finished her senior year. He told her that he loved her and was sure he wanted to marry her. He said all the things she wanted to hear, and all the things he said were very special. That part, the part before he took off her clothes and slid her next to him, that part was everything that she had hoped it would be.
The last part, the act itself, was not so special for Katie and wasn’t nearly as good an experience as it apparently was for Rob. He was clumsy and too aggressive. He grabbed and pulled and bit and pushed himself inside her before she was ready. It was painful and not as easy as he had promised. By the time school started they’d had sex five or six more times, and it didn’t hurt as much as it did that first time, but it was still not anything she enjoyed.
He did, at least, have condoms and used them every time, including that first night, so she didn’t have to worry about getting pregnant. But there were certainly other things to worry about. The biggest worry, of course, being the fact that when they left the church that night, sometime after midnight, Rob had folded up the blanket, blown out the candles he had put on the floor, and hurried them out the back door, hiding the key above the ledge where he had found it and forgetting about the candles left burning on the table.
When Katie later heard the news—the report that the fireman made to the sheriff and her brother, the one Danny shared with their parents a few nights after the incident, the report concluding that the fire had been started by burning candles on the altar—she had gotten up from the dinner table and run straight to the bathroom to vomit.
When Katie called and told Rob what she had heard, he convinced her that the story he had already told Danny and the sheriff was the perfect story. He explained it to her the same way he explained it to them. He had given Trina a ride to the church that night about an hour before he got to Katie’s house. He had dropped her off in the parking lot and left her there.
He promised Katie that everyone thought the new girl living in Roger’s apartment had been the last one at the church that night and that she was not denying she had been there. “It is,” he said convincingly, “a perfect story. No one thinks anything other than that.” He persuaded her that, for her own benefit, she needed to keep her mouth closed. And she had done what he asked. She hadn’t even told Nichole that she was no longer a virgin.
Once school started and people were still talking about how the Monsignor in Gallup had decided not to rebuild the church in Pie Town and the Catholic residents would have to attend Mass over in Omega or Quemado, how Trina had set the fire on purpose because she was angry at the priest, and how Father George was asking to be reassigned because the fire had taken everything from him and he didn’t want to be in a place that reminded him of such loss, Katie had begun to doubt Rob’s assurances that no one would find out about them being at the church and leaving the candles burning and that Trina would be held responsible for the fire but not charged with any crime.
She had begun to doubt not only what her boyfriend told her about the fire and about no one finding out, but also what he said about her being his one true love and how he could only love her. She had begun to wonder about all that he said about that night, about getting injured at football practice and giving that girl a ride and wanting to have sex only because he wanted to be as close to Katie as he could be. She had started to doubt everything about that night, about their relationship, and about Rob Chavez.
Katie knew she wouldn’t be able to talk to Rob again until he came to her house that night. She turned down the hall, walked outside, and watched as the football team headed out the back door of the locker room and onto the field. She thought she saw Rob look in her direction, and she smiled and lifted up her hand to wave. If he saw her, he never acknowledged her, and she dropped her hand, sliding her fingers, scratching, all the way down her neck.