Redemption Mountain (40 page)

As Emma was coming down, Rudy was going up in the other direction. Rudy led with the top of his forehead and caught Emma just above the right eye with a sickening smack, sending her backward in midair. Charlie was still pointing into the goal when Emma got hit. He blew two quick bursts to signal the end of the game as he sprinted toward Emma. Rudy stood over her. “How'd that feel, you cunt?” he yelled.

Before Rudy could say another word, Zack drove his shoulder into the Welch player's stomach, carrying him through the air and into the goal. Zack got off several hard punches to Rudy's face before Charlie wrapped his arms around him. As he struggled to pull Zack away, Charlie saw Natty on the ground, hunched over Emma. Then next to him appeared the legs of the Welch coach.

“I want that nigger suspended for the season!” The coach's red face was inches from Charlie's as he struggled to restrain the now-frenzied Zack.

“Who you callin' a nigger?” Zack spat out angrily, trying to kick his way out of Charlie's arms.

Rolling on the ground with Zack, Charlie saw that several other skirmishes had started on the field. It was turning into an all-out brawl. Suddenly a loud voice cut through the chaos.

“All right!
That's
enough!”
It was the voice of authority that Hank had developed in his fifty-year career as a schoolteacher and principal. “That's enough,” he repeated. “It's all over.” In a few seconds, the fighting had stopped, and the teams were drifting away from each other.

Charlie pulled Zack to his feet. “Okay, it's all over,” he said. “You did what you had to.” He was relieved to see Emma back on her feet, walking slowly toward the sideline with Natty, a towel pressed to her eyebrow. “Go see how Emma is. I'll take care of the coach. Okay?”

Zack's muscles relaxed and he seemed to slump in Charlie's arms. “Okay,” he whispered. But Charlie could feel the boy's tears dropping onto his forearm. He released his grip from behind but kept his arm around Zack's shoulders, which developed into a hug as he came around to look into the boy's face.

“Hey, Zack,” Charlie said to make eye contact. “He shouldn't have said that. He shouldn't have said what he did. But all I can tell you is there are a lot of ignorant people in the world, and he's one of them. So don't worry about somebody like that. Okay?”

Zack grunted, then wiped his eyes with the bottom of his new shirt, now torn in the middle. Charlie walked him up the sideline to where the Bones were packing up their gear. Natty saw them and walked their way. “How's Emma?” he asked.

“She's okay,” Natty said. “Going to have another good bruise. Probably going to need a couple of stitches, but she'll be okay.” Charlie nodded. “Going to take her to the clinic when we get back. Then I'll stay with her for a while. Make sure she doesn't have a concussion.”

“Good idea,” said Charlie.

“Gotta cancel on the Roadhouse tonight.” Natty smiled briefly.

“That's okay,” Charlie said, as he started to walk away. “Going to have a word with the coach here.”

“Charlie, be careful with him,” Natty said.

Charlie eyed the coach in the parking lot behind the bleachers as the man tossed a bag into the trunk of his car. The coach saw Charlie approaching and put on the wry smile he'd used when Charlie first confronted him during the game. He crossed his arms defiantly. Charlie hadn't decided what he was going to do until he saw the smirk on the coach's face.

He walked straight up to the coach and drove his right fist as hard as he could into the man's stomach. The shorter man gasped, doubled over, and vomited into the gray cinders of the parking lot. While he was still gasping for air, Charlie yanked his hair with his left hand, pulling the coach's head up against the top of the car. He stepped forward and drove his right knee up between the coach's legs, and the man's whole body shuddered with pain. Tears came to his eyes, and he heaved again down the front of his shirt.

“Remember this feeling,” Charlie forced out between clenched teeth. “This is how a young black kid feels when an adult calls him a nigger. Now you're going to apologize to Zack, but I don't want a good kid like that anywhere near a piece of scum like you, so you'll apologize to me, and I'll pass it on to him.” Charlie took a menacing step backward with his right leg. “Let's hear it, or you're going to need a fucking colostomy bag before you get out of this parking lot.”

The coach, his eyes closed, tears and vomit running down his face, held up his hands as he struggled for air. “No, no,” he managed weakly. “Sorry. Sorry, Zack,” he whispered hoarsely. Charlie released his grasp of the coach's hair, and the man slid down the side of the car to the ground. As Charlie walked back across the field, he noticed a Cadillac pull up quickly behind the coach's car. Kyle Loftus and the man with the thin mustache got out and hurried over to the still-gasping coach.

*   *   *

N
ATTY HAD STARTED
toward the bus with Emma. The girl held an ice bag to her eye, and a butterfly bandage covered her swollen lip. “Looks like you had fun today, Em,” Natty said.

“Did we win the game?” Emma asked softly.

“I'm not sure. You got the goal, but I'm not sure what the league is going to do after all this. Doesn't matter,” she said, putting her arm around Emma's shoulders. “That was one hell of a game you played.”

As they walked past the goal, Natty noticed someone sitting on the grass on the home side of the field. Emma saw him, too. It was Gabe, sitting with his arms on his knees, watching them. Emma looked over at Gabe, then at Natty. Natty smiled at her and nodded. “Go ahead, Em. We'll wait for you.”

Emma limped toward Gabe. She held the ice bag to her right eye and moved slowly. Gabe jumped up and began to walk toward her. They stopped about ten feet apart, unsure of what to say. Finally, Gabe spoke.

“Emma, I, uh, wanted to apologize for my team. They shouldn'ta treated you like that and said that stuff to you.” He looked at the ground and scowled. “That ain't the way to play soccer.” He thrust his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt. “Anyways, that's all I wanted to say. Good game you played.
Real
good game.” His voice and his eyebrows rose with enthusiasm. “
Damn!
Three best goals I ever saw!” Then he went silent, afraid he was talking too much.

It was Emma's turn to say something, but she wasn't sure if her voice would work. “Thanks,” she squeaked out softly. Then a little more loudly, “Thanks for helping me. Hope you didn't get in trouble.”

“Naw, that don't matter.”

Emma glanced back at the bus. “I gotta go,” she said, taking a step backward.

“Listen, Emma, I, uh, was wondering if you were going to play for Red Bone High next year. You and the Willards and that Polish kid—you think you'll all be playing?”

Emma shrugged. “I guess.”

“'Cause I was thinking, I got an aunt lives in Red Bone, and I could, you know, live over there and transfer to Red Bone High to play soccer.” Gabe couldn't hide the excitement in his voice. “So we could play on the same team, me and you, the Willard boys, and that new kid.”

Emma smiled through the pain of her lip and her rapidly swelling eyebrow. “
That'd
be a pretty good team.”

“
Hell,
state champions four years in a row is what
that
team'd be!” said Gabe proudly. “Go up there and kick the
crap
out of them teams from Charleston and Morgantown!” They both laughed, enjoying the idea of playing together on what would assuredly be a powerhouse high school soccer team.

The loud blare of the school-bus horn startled them. “Gotta go,” said Emma again. “Thanks, Gabe, for helping me today.”

“That's okay,” he said. He held out his fist to her. Emma smiled nervously as she brought her left fist up slowly and pressed her knuckles into Gabe's. The feel of the boy's cool skin against her own sent a shiver up her arm.

“I'll see you, Emma,” Gabe said, taking a step back. “Can't wait for next year.”

On the bus, Emma surprised Natty by squeezing in next to her in the front seat, her aches and pains replaced by a giddy excitement. As the bus pulled out of the parking lot, Emma leaned forward to watch Gabe jogging down the street.

*   *   *

C
HARLIE WALKED BACK
across the soccer field to where Hank stood leaning against the Chrysler.

“Feel better?” Hank asked.

Charlie avoided Hank's eyes. “Feel like shit.” He gestured toward the car. “C'mon, I need a drink.”

 

CHAPTER 24

 

M
oody's Roadhouse sat a few feet off the dusty shoulder of South County Road. Bigger than it looked from the outside, the tavern was actually three buildings that came together in an L-shape: an old clapboard house at the corner; a long shedlike structure that housed the restaurant and bar; and, around the corner on the unpaved side street, a smaller, flat-roofed house, topped by a neon sign that blinked out
FAT CATS
, underlined with smaller letters promising
ADULT ENTERTAINMENT.
The gravel parking lot was already half full, mostly with pickups, when Hank and Charlie arrived.

Inside, Charlie recognized a few faces, but Hank knew everyone. Charlie ordered a pitcher and two Jim Beams. After a couple of rounds, they ordered sandwiches, before the kitchen closed. They could hear a bluegrass band warming up in the large room off the bar. While they ate, they watched the people passing through the bar. Charlie recognized Natty's sister-in-law, Sally, who appeared to be a regular, chatting with everyone she saw. Charlie saw Eve Brewster, too. Their appearance quickened Charlie's pulse, in anticipation of the chance that perhaps Natty had changed her mind and would come out after all.

“Gonna go drain the monster,” Hank announced, rising painfully. There were two choices for the men's room, he informed Charlie—a small one upstairs, or a larger one out behind Fat Cats, accessible by a long wooden deck out the back door of the bar. Hank, like most of the men, would use the john at Fat Cats. “Easier than climbin' the stairs. Might sneak a little peek at the main stage while I'm over there,” Hank said with a wink.

Charlie nodded.
Fat Cats—where Hugo Paxton had his fatal heart attack. He'd have to go over later and check out the talent.
Charlie smiled to himself. He could see why the Roadhouse was a favorite spot of Hugo's. A steady stream of women in tight jeans, bare midriffs, and too much makeup made their way to the crowded room where the band was now in full swing.

Then, across the room on the other side of the bar, Charlie saw the man with the pencil-thin mustache, from the soccer game. He stared back at Charlie with a menacing scowl, a toothpick dancing nervously between his puffy lips. The bartender placed three longneck Budweisers on the bar in front of him. Charlie turned away, trying to recall where he'd seen him before. When he looked back, the man was gone.

“Hey, Charlie. Looking for someone?” Eve asked playfully, as she eased herself into Hank's chair.

“Hi, Eve. How are you?” Charlie smiled.

“I'm okay, Charlie,” she said with a weary smile. She looked around the Roadhouse. “Don't come here much anymore. Used to come a lot, in my younger days.”

“Interesting place,” said Charlie, looking back toward the bar.

“Only reason I came tonight was that Natty said she and Sal were comin' out.”

“Me, too.” Charlie watched Eve closely for a reaction. She stared at him with tired eyes, then reached for a cigarette. Charlie noticed Hank seated at another table, engaged in conversation with an older couple. “You know, Eve,” said Charlie, “up until about a month ago, I thought we were pretty good friends. Then I think you got the wrong idea about something.” Eve smiled briefly and shrugged her shoulders. “But, Eve, you have to believe me when I tell you there's nothing going on with me and Natty. We're just friends. That's all it is, and that's all it's going to be.”

A smile spread across Eve's face. “You and Natty. That's what you think this is about?”

“Well, I know you've seen us running together a couple of times, and—”

“And you've been going to her soccer games and become the best friend her son's ever had. And, of course, you let her drive your car around for a week, when hers was tore up.” Eve shook her head and laughed. “Shit, Charlie, everyone in Red Bone's seen the sparks flyin' between you two since you landed here. Then you get up there at the planning-board meeting when Natty's at the podium, and you're telling everyone how you're going to build us a brand-new library, but you're lookin' right at Natty, and your eyes are locked like two kids at the junior prom. All we needed was some violin music.”

Charlie was taken by surprise. “But, Eve, there's nothing going on,” he protested. “That's what I'm telling you. We're just—”

“Charlie.” Eve cut him off. She smiled, and her eyes were as soft as her voice. “Let me tell you something. There isn't a woman in McDowell County, including myself, who isn't hoping and praying that you'll fall mad in love with that girl and take her and her two kids away from here.”

It took Charlie several seconds to grasp what Eve had said. “But what about your brother?” he finally asked.

Eve leaned back in her seat. “Buck's an asshole. He's my brother and I love him, but he ain't never deserved one second of that girl's companionship, let alone the mindless adoration she's had for him for the last twenty years.” Eve took a long drag on her cigarette and shook her head. “Don't worry 'bout Buck. He's too dumb to know how lucky he is. Natty goes, he just finds some big-titted hillbilly girl, and he's happy as a clam.” Eve looked at her watch. “Never given them kids any fathering, anyway,” she added bitterly.