Redemption Mountain (32 page)

“So, what I'm trying to say here, Charlie, is that I understand what you were saying up there about not knowing how things are going to work out.” Then she added, more tentatively, “How your marriage is going to work out. 'Cause I don't know, either. But right now I can't give up on Buck, 'cause I've been loving him for too long, and I know there's still a chance for us to be a family, you know—like you and your wife had. I know Buck, and I know there's a good man in him, and a good father, if … if he can just get a break and get some of his self-respect back.”

She started walking down the path. Charlie got up and fell in next to her. At the break in the bushes at the top of Oakes Hollow, they both stopped.

“Charlie,” said Natty, “thanks for what you said up there. That felt real nice.”

Charlie just nodded to her and smiled. It seemed like everything had already been said. He turned to start his run again and then stopped and looked back toward Natty. “Hey, does Buck have any experience cutting wood? Big trees, commercial work.”

Natty nodded. “Sure, he has. He's done plenty of wood cutting. Most of it illegal, for the timber pirates, you know. But he's cut down plenty of big trees.”

“Okay,” said Charlie. “We just hired a contractor to cut the right of way through to the power-grid connection. Several miles through really rugged terrain. About a three- or four-month job. They're going to hire about thirty men next week. I'll give them Buck's name so he won't have to wait on line. It's good pay. I know, 'cause they're really screwing us on the contract,” he added with a laugh. “Buck will have to join the union, though. But he'll get some benefits. I'll let you know what he has to do.”

“Okay—
great
,” said Natty excitedly, as Charlie turned and began to jog. Natty watched him go. “Thank you, Charlie,” she said to herself. “Again.”

 

CHAPTER 19

 

C
harlie spent most of the day at his desk revising the request for variance they would present to the planning board that evening. Late in the afternoon, the Pie Man burst through the door.

“Hello, Charlie,” Pie said.

Charlie found it impossible not to laugh when Pie made his entrance. The boy was irrepressible, always capable of lifting Charlie's spirits regardless of the mood he was in. They exchanged high-fives.

“Hey, Pie Man,” Charlie said. “What's going on?” He reached out and pushed the boy's Yankees cap down over his eyes.

“Charlie, we win another thoccer game yethterday!”

“That's great, Pie,” said Charlie. “Score any goals?”

“Pie Man not thcore any goal, but Emma thcored four or five. Lot of goalth, I forget,” the boy said, holding up a hand with his fingers spread out.

“I'm glad you came, Pie Man,” said Charlie, getting up. “Got a surprise for you.” Charlie showed Pie the computer on which he'd installed a math tutorial, as well as a few games. Over the screen, the words
The Pie Man
were printed on transparent tape. “C'mon, sit down,” Charlie said, as he turned on the computer. “This is yours.”

“Look, my name ith on the computer,” the boy said reverently, running his fingertips across his name. He attacked the math program enthusiastically, rocking back and forth on his stool as he repeated to himself in a kind of low chant, “I will be an engineer, jutht like Charlie.” After twenty minutes on the computer, Pie got bored and ran off again.

Pie's visit reminded Charlie that he would see Natty that night. He hadn't seen her since their eventful run. Thinking of Natty reminded him of Buck and the phone call he had to make. He thumbed through the Rolodex until he found the contractor who'd won the bid to cut through the forest. Charlie had met Pat Garvey several times in the course of the negotiation. He reached him on his cellphone in his truck. After some small talk, Charlie got to the point. “Pat, I need a favor.”

“Sure, Charlie,” said Garvey, ever mindful of future business the big mule could steer his way.

“I got an experienced tree cutter who could use a job,” said Charlie.

“You know, Charlie, since we got the contract, woodcutters have been breaking down the door. I'm about filled up.”

“You can always use one more, Pat,” said Charlie. “It'd be a personal favor to me.”

“For you, Charlie, I could probably put one more on—but he's got to be good, 'cause that's serious work. Real rugged terrain, and I don't want nobody getting killed. Who's your guy?”

“Name's Buck Oakes. Lives in Red Bone.” There was no reply. Charlie could hear the sound of Garvey's truck motoring down the road. “Supposed to have some woodcutting experience. Strong guy, too.”

Finally, Garvey's voice came back over the phone. “Yeah, Buck's cut some wood,” he said, sounding less than enthusiastic. “Listen, Charlie—”

“Pat,” Charlie interrupted. “I know Buck's got some problems. I'm trying to give him a break. If he causes any problems, fire him, no questions asked. I'll take care of the union.”

“Okay, Charlie. We'll give it a try, but Buck's a hothead and a boozer. What's your connection with him, anyway?”

“He's my landlady's brother. Trying to do her a favor.”

“Okay, Charlie.” Garvey paused a few seconds before speaking again. “You know, Buck beat the shit out of his wife a couple years ago. Came home drunk as a skunk one night and beat the daylights out of her. She was in the hospital for a while.”

Charlie had to take a deep breath. He thought he might drop the phone.
Why hadn't she said anything, in all that talk about Buck? Why was she still living with him?

“Poor kid's face was black and blue for months.”

Oh, Christ! Those scars over her eye and her mouth, and she sat there talking about how much she loves him.…

“Nice girl, too. Took care of my grandma few years back.”

Charlie fought back his anger as he thought about Natty getting pummeled by the ignorant brute who'd glared at him from the white pickup. “Yeah, I heard about all that,” Charlie lied softly.

“All right, Charlie,” Garvey said, resigned. “I'll get in touch with Buck and give him the good news. Hope it works out, 'cause Buck's a good woodcutter. Be the best-paying job he's had in a long time, I'll guarantee you that.”

“And, Pat, when you call him, don't mention anything about me. Okay?”

“Sure, if that's how you want it.”

Charlie felt sick and angry. He decided to call it a day and go for a run to clear his head before the planning-board meeting.

*   *   *

T
HE RED BONE
high school was a cavernous old building, constructed of huge blocks of red and brown stone and wide-plank flooring. It had been built in the 1920s, at a time when the population around Red Bone could generate three hundred high-school-age children to fill it. The gymnasium, where the planning-board meetings were held, was in the middle section of the building, accessible via a long, dimly lit hallway.

Charlie, Summers, Yarbrough, and his PR man strode noisily into the empty gym. They were a half hour early. Over dinner, the group had run through their presentation and now wanted to set up their exhibits. A representative from the governor's office, a state senator, and the director of the West Virginia Economic Development Commission would be joining them to testify in support of the petition.

At seven-fifty, the gym was still empty. Charlie wondered if their presentation would be made to a sea of empty chairs. Then, as if a bus had pulled up outside, the locals began to arrive in groups of three and four and five, and the gym filled. Charlie recognized a few of them: Mabel Willard and Ada Lowe, along with a couple who Charlie figured were Emma Lowe's parents. Eve came in with Sally and her family and sat in the middle of the gym, among a group of out-of-work miners.

As he watched the citizens file quietly and orderly into the rows of chairs in front of him, a sinking feeling came over Charlie. The gym looked as if it could be anywhere, but this group of people was definitely not from Westchester County. In Mamaroneck, a meeting such as this would quickly develop into a chat fest of smiling, handsomely dressed couples shaking hands and waving across the room.

The faces that Charlie saw showed little contentment. They were faces of concern, if not abject despair. Smiles were forced and short-lived, and the chatter was brief and subdued. This was serious business to these people. They were looking to the power plant for their economic salvation, the source of a family-saving job for a husband, a brother, a son, anyone who might bring home a paycheck. This wasn't a game to them. These people were genuinely concerned about the project and the jobs it could create—concerns brought about by the rumor so artfully crafted by Yarbrough that the project might shut down permanently if they weren't granted a variance. They didn't know the fix was in, as it always was with companies like OntAmex.

Charlie sat erect in his Joseph Abboud suit and looked at the lawyers and the politicians who'd joined them at the power table, all similarly dressed for intimidation, and he realized again that he was on the wrong side of the room.
He should be the one grilling these assholes and making them pay, not shills like poor Natty Oakes, who's got enough things to worry about without having to be a part of their parlor game.

Charlie watched as Hank settled into a chair at the center of the table. Making a little extra noise, Charlie pushed his chair back and went over to Hank. As they shook hands, Charlie whispered, “Hank, I want you to pull me away from the table, like you've got something important to tell me. And keep talking.”

Charlie made certain that his back shielded Hank from Yarbrough, whose eyes he could feel boring into him. When Charlie went back to his chair, Yarbrough leaned toward him. “What's going on?”

The loud bang of Hank's gavel on the aluminum table interrupted Charlie's response. “Tell you later,” Charlie whispered. “I think we're still okay.” Yarbrough scowled.

The gymnasium was nearly full. Then the door opened once more, and Natty and the Pie Man entered. They made their way up the center of the room and found seats on the aisle. As always now, Charlie's heart beat faster when he saw Natty. Again, Natty amazed him with her ability to be so inconspicuous and attract so little attention. Here she was, one of the most beautiful women Charlie had ever met, and she could walk into a room, looking so plain in her unflattering blue jeans and boots, with no makeup or jewelry, that hardly a man would take notice.

Hank began the meeting by reading the executive summary of the request for variance. Then he laid out the ground rules. “First, the OntAmex side, represented by Mr. Vernon Yarbrough from the law firm of Kerns and Yarbrough of Charleston and Mr. Charles Burden of the project's engineering company, will present their petition.”

At the mention of Charlie's name, Pie leaned across his mother's lap, his face scrunched in excitement, and pointed the index fingers of both hands toward Charlie. Charlie had to look away quickly to avoid laughing.

“After that,” Hank continued, “if anyone's got anything to say, for or against the plan, or you just want to have some fun beatin' the hell out of a big utility company, you can take your shot at the podium.”

Then Hank turned the meeting over to Vernon Yarbrough. The silver-tongued litigator had announced his objectives at dinner earlier: to make friends with the audience; to extol the benefits of the project to the local economy; and then to scare the shit out of everyone by implying that the project may well be terminated if the variance was denied. He was a master of his craft.

When Yarbrough finished, Charlie began the technical portion of the presentation, admitting that the fault lay with the engineer who'd worked on the original site plan. The admission seemed to strike a sympathetic chord with the audience and the planning board.

Using a large board showing a diagram of the site, Charlie pointed out the main building, the administration building, and the front gate. Pointing to a spot to the left of the main gate, he noted, “Right about here is where I understand the local kids used to sneak under the fence, before I arrived.” There was a smattering of knowing chuckles in the audience as Charlie took two strides up the aisle and grinned directly at the Pie Man, who shrank down in his seat, unsure if he was in trouble. The look on Charlie's face reassured him, and slowly a blushing happy face closed his eyes to slits. “Fortunately,” Charlie continued, “one very nice young man from your town offered to show me where the hole was, so we were able to fix it.”

Natty smiled down at her embarrassed son, afraid to look up, afraid to find that Charlie might be looking at her. She waited until he started talking again before she turned back toward the front of the room. She'd been nervous since the moment she entered the gym and saw Charlie sitting behind the table at the front of the room with all the other important men. Now, as she watched him occupy center stage, she felt as if she had a hole in her stomach. She replayed for the hundredth time the words he had said to her up in the grotto. And there he was, the same man, up in front of all these people, sounding so professional and so good at his job, in control of the room, and so confident. He wore an exquisitely tailored dark suit that looked perfect and natural on him—clearly an outsider, from a different world, like the other men at the front table. It made her feel foolish for what she had been thinking the past few days.

Charlie talked about blasting the rock formation at the original pond site. For the sake of the miners in the audience, he went into some detail, using technical terms like
seismic echoes, metal fatigue,
and
stress tolerances
, which the miners seemed to understand. He described the location and design of the new pond and the containment dike with its steel framework that would be several feet higher than the code required.