Redemption Mountain (46 page)

“Amen,” everyone said.

“Thank God!” Eve exhaled. “Drag that out any longer and the damn football season'd be over.”

The feast was on. Charlie helped Pie with his lobster, while Natty, Woody, and Mr. Jacks watched Charlie, learning how to eat a lobster as they went along. After cracking one of the huge claws, Charlie dunked the succulent meat in Pie's butter dish, and everyone watched as Pie tried his first bite. Charlie laughed with pleasure as the boy's face lit up. “Oh, Charlie, lobthter is very delicious!”

They turned the volume up on the TV to hear over the clatter. Pie was especially animated in his enjoyment of this newfound delicacy. Michigan scored a touchdown, and they finished off the Jack Daniel's. Hank raised up his bottle of moonshine from under the table for toasting subsequent scores and was met with unanimous approval.

Glancing at a close-up of a Michigan cheerleader, Charlie suddenly jumped to his feet. “Oh, jeez, Pie Man, I completely forgot!” He started toward the bedroom and returned with a white plastic bag, which he tossed to Pie. “Been holding on to this for today's game.” Pie reached into the bag and pulled out the dark-blue shirt. His eyes grew wide as he unfolded the shirt to reveal the yellow
MICHIGAN
lettering. He held it out in front of him.

“Look, Mama, Univerthity of
Michigan
!”

Natty stood up and reached for the shirt. “Let me see it, Pie,” she said. She quickly pulled it over her head.

“Mama!” Pie protested.

“How's that look?” asked Natty, smiling at Charlie. “Look like a cheerleader?”

“Maybe the mother of a cheerleader,” Eve squawked, clearly feeling the afternoon's liquor. By the time the game ended, everyone was stuffed, Hank's moonshine was gone, and Mr. Jacks was sound asleep, snoring loudly. They sat around the table for another hour, sipping wine and coffee and talking in the low-key, relaxed way of good friends. They talked about food and sports and joked about growing old.

Eventually the conversation came around to Natty's soccer team and the incredible season they were having. A troubled look came over Natty. “Don't know if we'll be going to the tournament after all,” she said, describing her run-in with Kyle Loftus after the game in Princeton. “No point going up there without Emma and Zack. Wouldn't be fair to them or the rest of the kids. Real good teams get invited to that tournament. Better than us, anyway, even with Emma and Zack.”

Charlie listened while the others voiced their outrage. “Going to get an appeal hearing,” explained Natty, “but that ain't going to do any good. Be at Loftus's office, with him and his buddies who run the league, so I'll probably just skip that.”

“Keep the appeal hearing, Nat,” Charlie suggested. “I'll go with you. May be some way to get him to change his mind.”

“Going to beat him up for me, Charlie?”

“Not a bad idea,” he responded. Everyone laughed.

*   *   *

T
HE TABLE AND
a good part of the floor around it were covered with bowls filled with red lobster shells, leftover salad, bread crusts, beer cans, and used napkins. Darkness arrived through the tall windows, and Eve busied herself packing up the extra lobsters.

“I'll come to clean up after I take this down to Mabel and the boys,” she said, heading for the door. “Pie Man, you'll sleep down at my place tonight, special treat.” She winked at Natty as she left the apartment. Hank excused himself to visit the bathroom and clean his shirt, soiled with drawn butter, and Natty forced herself up from the couch to start clearing the mess from the coffee table.

At the kitchen sink, Natty felt Charlie move behind her, then his hands grabbed her biceps and shook her playfully. Natty laughed as he passed through the screen door and disappeared into the darkness of the porch to have a cigar. She stood still for a moment, savoring the tingly feeling she had in her arms where Charlie had briefly held her, and felt a stirring deep inside. Everyone would be leaving soon, and she'd be alone in the apartment with Charlie.

Pie sat on the couch, his eyes half closed, his head resting on Woody's arm. A golf tournament played on TV. The boy's face was covered with butter grease, bread crumbs, and other residue from the meal. He still held on to several pork rinds, as if he'd forgotten they were there. Natty smiled down at him. It had been a big day for the Pie Man, one he'd remember for a long time.

She was leaning over to pick up another load from the coffee table when she heard a light rapping at the door. She listened again, trying to tune out the sound of the TV, and there it was, three polite taps on the door, so soft that no one else could hear them. She pulled open the door and saw an apparition, a vision from another world, because the last thing she expected to see was a stranger in the hallway.

Natty stood mute from her surprise, staring at what had to be the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen up close. The woman was taller than Natty, with lustrous black hair that fell just shy of her shoulders. She stood with her hands in the pockets of an elegant long black leather coat with a high collar and a pair of high-heeled black boots. Her makeup accentuated her dark eyes, and her lips were painted a deep red. She wore delicate diamond earrings.

The stranger smiled pleasantly at Natty's surprise, and her eyes fluttered briefly to the yellow Michigan lettering across Natty's chest. She pulled a gloved hand from her right pocket and held it out to Natty. “Hello,” she said, “I'm Ellen Burden.”

Natty reached out and tried to think. “Oh, Charlie's wife,” she managed softly.
Holy shit! Charlie's wife's standing here in the fucking hallway!
She attempted a smile, unaware if her facial muscles were working properly. “Natty…” she whispered hoarsely. She cleared her throat. “Natty Oakes,” she said louder.
Oh, jeez, this isn't going to look good for Charlie.

Ellen Burden smiled as she looked at their still-clasped hands. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Natty. This is Charlie's apartment, isn't it?”

Natty let go of her hand. “Why, yes, ma'am, it sure is,” she said, adding a little extra drawl. “C'mon in here, ma'am, and welcome to West Virginia!”

Ellen entered the room and found herself standing next to a coffee table. She took a quick glance at the couch, where an old, wiry black man with white hair was asleep, his head on his chest. Leaning against the arm of a second black man was a little boy, who also looked to be asleep. A curious concoction was smeared across the boy's face. Ellen turned to smile at Natty, who'd shut the door behind her, then she gazed at the lobster shells littering the table. “Oh, yes,” she said, almost to herself. “The Ohio State game. I'd almost forgotten.”

“Yes, ma'am, and it was a beauty: 31–17, Michigan.”

Ellen smiled again at Natty, and her eyes moved again briefly to the blue T-shirt.

Woody finally noticed the newcomer and pushed himself up slowly from the couch. “Miz Burden, this here's Woody Givens, lives across the street,” introduced Natty. Then she pointed to the end of the couch, where Mr. Jacks had just awakened. “And over there is Kermel Jacks, his roommate. Boys, like you to meet Miz Ellen Burden, come all the way down here from New York to visit Charlie.” Woody held out a big paw. “
Wheehee,
sure is a pleasure to meet you, ma'am.” Ellen nodded.

On the couch, Mr. Jacks squinted through thick bifocals as he tried to understand what was going on. “What? What's that?” said the old man. Ellen smiled pleasantly while Natty grabbed a used napkin from the table. Holding Pie's head with her left hand, she rubbed the napkin over her sleeping son's greasy face.

“And this little pecker here,” she said, standing up and tossing the napkin back on the table, “is my son, the Pie Man.” Ellen looked at the boy for a few moments, then turned to Natty.

“He's … what, twelve or thirteen?”

“Yeah, 'bout twelve, close as we can figure,” said Natty. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hank approach from the bedroom. “And look who's comin' now,” she announced, redirecting Ellen's attention. Hank had removed his stained shirt and pulled his suspenders up over his naked torso. The pale folds of his liver-spotted flesh jiggled as he entered the living room.

Natty scooted around the coffee table to intercept him. “This old show dog here's my boyfriend, Pullman Hankinson,” she said proudly. Before Hank could react, she added, “Hank, this beautiful lady's Charlie's wife, Miz Ellen Burden.”

The afternoon's liquor may have slowed Hank's reaction, but it hadn't dulled his wits. “Why, Miz
Burdan
, it sure is a pleasure to meet any wife of Charlie's,” he said with a deep laugh. He turned and nuzzled Natty's ear. “Could be I'll be gettin' me another 'fore too long.” Natty put her arms around Hank's neck and kissed his cheek, while he, enjoying his new role, put his hand on her back.

“Aw, Hank, you need to stop teasin' me now.” Natty was startled to see Charlie standing behind his wife, enjoying the show, a wide grin on his face.

“Hello, Ellen,” he said. Ellen tilted her head and smiled at her husband as she examined his face.

“Darling,” she said warmly, “how
is
your nose?”

“Much better,” he said, moving forward to hug her. “This is a surprise.”

“Duncan made all the arrangements—the helicopter from Charleston. Then a nice man, Mr. Hicks, the security guard, drove me up here.”

“You've met everyone?” asked Charlie.

“Yes,” said Ellen. “I've met all of your friends.”

Hank and Natty nodded, while Woody stared wide-eyed in confusion. A moment of silence filled the room. Finally Natty announced, “Charlie, Eve and me'll come and clean up this mess tomorrow. We'll all be gettin' out o' here now.” She leaned over the couch and shook Pie awake. “C'mon, Pie Man, time to go. Let's go, Mr. Jacks.” Hank thanked Charlie for dinner and left, followed by a perplexed Woody. Natty herded Mr. Jacks and Pie—still half asleep—out the door. “Thanks, Charlie,” she called out over her shoulder as they left. “Hank and me had a great time.”

Hank slipped quietly into his apartment while Natty helped Woody and Mr. Jacks down the stairs. Pie was asleep on his feet, so Natty deposited him in Eve's apartment. In the vestibule at the bottom of the stairs stood a green paisley-patterned suitcase with brown leather trim. Natty stopped for a moment and gazed at the expensive-looking bag.
Jeez, even her suitcase is beautiful.
After getting Woody and Mr. Jacks safely home, Natty left the Pocahontas Hotel and walked down the middle of Main Street. She suddenly felt the chill of the night and remembered that she was still wearing Pie's new Michigan shirt. She'd left her sweater on the floor at Charlie's.

Eve was just back from Mabel Willard's when she saw Natty enter the dim circle of light in front of the store. She held her palms up. “What happened to the party?”

Natty smiled. “Charlie had company.” She paused, to let Eve suffer a bit. “His wife dropped in.”

Eve's jaw fell open.
“No shit?”

Natty nodded. “Flew down from New York today.”

“Aw, Nat,” Eve said, shaking her head. She started to say something else, but Natty cut her off with a wave as she pulled open the door of the Accord.

“You got Pie on your couch. See you tomorrow.” Natty got in the car and pulled the door closed. Tomorrow she'd get up early and go for a long, hard run.

*   *   *

C
HARLIE AND ELLEN
seated themselves in a booth at a front window of Eve's Restaurant. The place was busy, with a half dozen customers seated at the counter and the tables. After ordering blueberry pancakes, Charlie walked over to the store to get a paper.

Most of the restaurant patrons used Charlie's absence to steal another look at the stunning wife of the power-plant boss, down from New York. She was clearly in a different league from the women in Red Bone, wearing a gorgeous lavender turtleneck and tightly pressed designer jeans. Charlie returned to the booth with the Sunday
Charleston Gazette
.

“No
Times
?” said Ellen.

Charlie laughed, pulling out the sports section. “No
Imus in the Morning,
either.”

Ellen rolled her eyes. “How do you stand it?” she said, smiling.

“It's pure hell,” he answered, as he searched for the football news to see who the Giants were playing. They were drinking their coffee when Hank entered and took a stool at the counter. Ellen smiled brightly and gave him the friendly finger wave she used for acquaintances whose name she couldn't remember. Charlie turned to see who it was. “Hey, Hank, how you doing?”

“Morning, Charlie, Miz Burden,” said Hank with a nod.

Charlie turned back to Ellen for a second, then twisted around again to face Hank, his arm on the back of the booth for support. “Natty sleeping in this morning?” Charlie had a mischievous twinkle in his eye that was hidden from his wife.

Hank coughed, and his eyes darted around the restaurant to see if anyone else had heard. He dabbed his mouth with a napkin, though he hadn't eaten anything. “That's right, yeah,” he said quietly. “She, uh, got a little tired out last night.”

Charlie had to stifle a laugh. “She's quite a girl you got there, real live wire.”

Hank's whiskers bounced up and down nervously, while his eyes circled the room. “She's somethin', all right,” he mumbled.

The waitress arrived in front of Hank with a coffeepot, sparing him further torture from Charlie, who turned back to his wife. Ellen eyed Hank for a moment before peering through the front window.

“Oh, look, there are your friends, Mr. Woody and Jack,” she announced. Charlie spotted the two elderly miners helping each other across Main Street. “This really is a small place,” said Ellen. “Everyone probably knows everyone else in town.”