Republic of Dirt (24 page)

T
he night of the Halloween party, I dreamed about the drama teacher. We’d had words the night before. Hot words, if you’ll forgive my directness.

She’d come to the party but hadn’t gotten out of her car. Instead, she’d texted me a series of funny, sexy little messages.

Example:

Okay, so maybe our texts weren’t that funny or sexy, but I liked it.

Obviously, that was weird as hell considering I had a pitchfork through my chest and pointy ears and green overalls, but I never really doubted that she found the sight of me pleasing. It is such a rush when someone finds you appealing. This is doubly true when you don’t find too many things about yourself appealing.

She didn’t ask when I would be ready to handle her pest situation and I liked that, too. The lack of pressure made the task feel more manageable.

I decided I would do it soon. Treat her pests, I mean. And she would find me even more beautiful. How many guys get a sophisticated woman saying something like that to them?

So I was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and thinking about how she would react when I heroically debugged her house, when Earl interrupted my reverie.

He knocked once, quietly, like he didn’t want to wake Prudence, then came on in.

“We got to have a staff meeting,” he said.

I was still tangled in the drama teacher’s well-used but bedbug-free sheet in my mind, so I had trouble following what he was saying.

“Now?” I said. “What about Prudence?”

“We’re going to let her rest. Come on down to the cabin,” he said. Then he marched on out of the house.

When I got to his cabin, he had coffee made and was sitting at his oilcloth-covered kitchen table.

“Speaking as the only staff member at this meeting, since you and Prudence are management, I’d like to say that my shift doesn’t start until eight thirty. I’m lobbying for ten, but so far no dice. Let’s add that to the agenda.”

He didn’t grumble or react to my amusing comments.

“We got to talk about Sara,” he said.

I noticed then that he looked wiped out. His stubble was gray against his pale cheeks. Normally, Earl’s natural grumpiness keeps his cheeks rosy. Not this morning.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

I remembered him leaving in his truck the night before. “Did something happen?”

Earl sighed. Rubbed his hands roughly over his face, like he was trying to clean cobwebs from it.

“It’s her mother. She’s got them staying in a campground. At least, she’s parking Sara in the car in a campsite while she buggers off doing who knows what till the morning.”

“I don’t understand. They have a house. That place in the subdivision. It’s for sale, but I don’t think it’s been sold.”

“I got no idea why. That woman makes ferns look smart, at least when it comes to looking after her kid. I mean, Jesus. They took Sara away because we left her alone for an hour. And now her mom’s got her spending all night alone in a dark car.”

My head spun. Heart raced. The whole deal.

“We’ll tell the social worker. Or her dad.”

“So the social worker gives full custody to her old man? He’s not going to change his mind on us even if we get him a whole herd of mules. ‘Specially not if his Mrs. could tell on him. Or maybe the social worker decides none of us is any good and they put her in care.”

“They can’t!” I said.

“Course they can. And they will. It’s a goddamned mess.”

“What’s her mother thinking?” I said. “Is she using drugs? Turning tricks? What the fuck?”

Earl just shook his head.

“All I know is Sara’s scared. I stayed with her last night and hightailed it out of there when I heard her mother coming.”

No wonder he looked like a three-day-old dinner. Earl is no youngster. He couldn’t be staying out all night.

“Okay. So we’ll take turns. Her dad has her half the time. We’ll figure out when her mom’s taking her to the campground and make sure she’s not alone.”

“The damned woman is forgetting to feed her, too,” said Earl. “We need to go to the school this morning. Drop something off.”

My heart was racing so bad. Who the hell leaves her kid alone all night and forgets to feed her?

“I’m on it,” I said. “You go to sleep. I’ll give Sara my cell phone and take lunch to the school this morning. They won’t be open for a couple of hours. She’s not staying alone in that campground again.”

“What are you going to put in her lunch?” asked Earl.

“She likes apples. And boiled eggs. I suspect that’s rare in kids her age.”

“She hasn’t been getting healthy stuff. You better put some carrot sticks in there,” said Earl. “And crackers and peanut butter.”

“They don’t let peanut butter in her class. There’s that kid with the allergy. He could die if she breathes on him.”

“Goddamn it. You’re right. I forgot that,” said Earl.

In the end, we decided we both better go to Country Grocer to stock up on lunch and breakfast supplies for Sara. We gave her two boiled eggs, three granola bars, two fruit bars, a cheese sandwich, a jam sandwich, a thermos of hot noodle soup, a bottle of apple juice, a container of milk, some of those weird cheese and cracker packages, a bag of chips, two apples and a banana. We put it all in a large paper bag and left it with the school secretary, who looked at us quizzically.
I hoped no one in the office recognized us from our performance outside on parent-teacher day. I thought I saw a blond head poking out of the principal’s office. It could have belonged to Miss Singer, Sara’s teacher. But Earl and I hustled out of there before she could get a good look.

In the bottom of the bag, we’d left Sara a pay-and-talk cell phone and a set of instructions for when to get in touch.

S
ara was back with her father for the next two weeks, so I wasn’t staying with her every other night anymore, and I figured it was time to find the guy who stole Prudence’s barn money.

When Eugene come out of the house, just about a week after the party, stretching his arms over his head like he wanted to hug the sky, which was gray as a barfly’s teeth, I told him that the little bastard ripped us off and that Prudence asked me to find the guy and I couldn’t, goddamn it.

I should have cleared my throat to warn him I was there, because he nearly jumped out of his big rubber boots.

Holy Christ, Earl, he said. I didn’t see you.

I was standing against the side of the house, taking a gander at the place, trying to figure out where I should park the chicken coop for the day. It needed to be someplace Sara could get to it easy, and Prudence has rules about not leaving the birds on one patch of ground too long because of leaving the exact right amount of chicken shit and destruction behind so the grass’ll grow extra fast.

Me and Eugene stood there for another minute or two until he spoke up again.

So how are things? he asked.

How do you think they are? I said. I guess the not sleeping was catching up with my attitude, even though I was glad to do it. Me and Seth had started packing chairs to sit in and rain gear and big umbrellas and blankets, but we were still sitting outside in the goddamned weather for between four and five hours. That wears on a person. But old Eugene knows how to mind his business. All he said was that was a very good question.

What’s going on with that pile there? he said, pointing to the bricks and logs we didn’t use for the pig death scene at Halloween. You going to make a brick outhouse with some log detailing?

Supposed to be for the barn, I said.

Going to be small.

Like I said, that goddamned constructor kid ripped Prudence off. Got money for the materials and all he done was drop off some old bricks and them old logs there. He’s buggered off and took the barn money with him. She told me to find him and I can’t.

Ah, said Eugene. He stared out over the fields. Looked at Lucky and Bertie, grazing together near my cabin. This place has come a long way, he said.

It’s Prudence, I told him. She’s a hard worker. Least she was till she took sick.

That’s true, he said. She’s something.

But that don’t help us with the social worker or Sara’s damned fool parents, I said.

Yes, he said, and I don’t think losing Sara is helping Prudence feel any better.

He checked his phone and then put it back in his pocket.

My new locum has started. I’m supposed to be off today, unless an emergency comes in and she can’t handle it. What do you say we go find the builder and Prudence’s money?

I said, Jesus Christ, that would be good.

We got into that big white rig of his—probably burns two gallons of gas every time he turns the key—and went to Tim’s to fortify, as Eugene called it, with donuts and coffees.

We was in the lineup and he says to me, Earl, if we’re going to spend time together, I think I should let you know that my name is Eustace, not Eugene.

That right? I said.

Then we had a helluva good laugh.

We sat in the parking lot at Timmy’s and he looked up things on that phone of his. I remember when people had phone books. I never liked them, either.

Well, he said. Stephan McFadden’s not listed, but I think I know his uncle. We’ll start there.

So we drove way the hell into the back of beyond and into the Nanaimo Lakes area. Lots of logging up in there. The second- and third-growth trees are all spindly as fourth-graders’ legs and too close together. When I first come to this island, there was trees so big it’d take three men holding hands to circle ‘em. Not many of them left these days.

We drove through the skinny little forests and Eustace pulled over on the side of the road near an unmarked driveway and checked his phone again.

This is it, he said. I should know it by heart because I mailed about twenty-four invoices to him before I sent him to collections. In exchange, I’ve been paid exactly zero dollars.

He turned up the dirt track and stopped in front of a trailer tucked into a scrubby old clearing. There was toys and bags of garbage and pieces of cars all over the yard.

I asked Eustace what kind of work he did over here, because I didn’t see no farm animals and he said, Just wait and you’ll see.

So we got out of the truck and went to the front door. It was even more full of junk than Seth’s mother’s place. There was a path cut through piles of newspapers and magazines and boxes. Some of the crap was wrapped in tarps and some wasn’t. Six foot high if it was an inch. I’ll tell you, I didn’t like being in among all that garbage. Smelled like old diapers in there. I seen a show on TV once about the people who can’t get rid of nothing, and young Stephan’s uncle should have been on the season premiere.

Eustace knocked on the door. Nobody answered. He knocked again.

Then the door opened and a little feller looked out. He was dressed better than I would have thought. Glasses and brown sweater. Like a college teacher. Condition his yard was in, I wouldn’t have been surprised to see him wearing a goddamned tarp with mouse traps hanging off it for decoration.

Yes? he said.

Hello, Brian, said Eustace, polite considering his bill was never paid.

Brian didn’t answer. He whipped his head around and bellowed, I hear you, Willa! You need to stop that RIGHT NOW.

I was thinking Eustace needed to get on that phone of his and call the police if this was how the feller talked to his wife.

So no repercussions from Willa’s illness, I take it? asked Eustace.

Oh, she’s a going concern, said the little feller. Willa, come here and see your doctor! he said.

You could have knocked me over with a piece of dandelion fluff when a big pig come around the corner. She was pink and whiskery and her eyes was nearly buried in fat. She snuffled at us.

Hello, Willa, said Eustace. You’re looking well.

The pig snuffled again.

You going to come and say hello to your personal physician? asked Brian. After all, he’s been kind enough to make a house call.

That old pig squeezed through the hallway, which was every bit as crowded as the yard outside, her belly nearly dragging on the ground, and that face of hers, well, it was so damned ugly you couldn’t help but like her. The fat under her throat hung almost as low as her stomach and swung from side to side when she walked.

She come right up beside the little feller, squishing him into a pile of what looked like old clothes. Eustace bent down and give her a friendly scratch behind the ear and she grunted. I swear to god that pig sounded like she was talking. You’d think a hog living in them hoarder conditions would be dirty, but she seemed clean enough.

You did a superb job, doctor, said Brian, who talks kind of fancy for a feller who lives in a trailer filled with garbage and a huge pig. Willa has been breathing just fine since her treatment. No recurrence of her walking pneumonia. As you suggested, I’m keeping her as stress-free as possible.

That’s good, says Eustace. I also look forward to being paid for my services at some point in the future.

The knock on his bill-paying habits didn’t faze the little man one bit. Of course, doctor, he says. You are my first priority.

I started to get worried about how that pig was going to get herself turned around. Brian was smashed against the clothing pile and me and Eustace was packed together like tinned oysters. What if that
pig panicked and run right over us? Ever since we got the mule, I’m more aware of stampeding.

The pig didn’t seem in a hurry to go anywhere. She had her head tilted so she could see us out from under the ridges of fat over her eyes.

The little feller didn’t seem to be in any hurry either. The two of them looked like they’d be happy to stand in that little hallway all day.

We’re looking for your nephew, said Eustace. Wondering if you know where we can find him?

I’ve got a lot of nephews, doctor, said Brian. We’re Irish Catholics of the old type. The relations back in Ireland stopped breeding like laboratory mice some time ago, but my seven sisters haven’t gotten the message. They don’t understand that the world has limited resources and so they keep having babies. Not like Willa here—right, girl? You’re not going to be bringing bucketloads of piglets into the world, are you? Not while I’m in supervisory capacity.

Willa grunted.

The little feller didn’t seem to have no shortage of resources, at least if you count garbage as a resource. I was thinking his sisters probably didn’t invite him to too many family functions. Him or his pig.

We’re looking for Stephan. He agreed to do some work on Earl’s farm, but he disappeared after he got paid.

Ah, the wee shite is famous for it.

Brian looked as unworried about his nephew as he had about his unpaid bill.

Never give a McFadden money before the job is done, he said. Except me, of course. I’m reliable.

Of course, said Eustace. In your case, get the money before
starting
the job.

Oh, you’re a card, doctor. Anyway, I want to help you out since
you were so good to Willa and here you are checking up on her again. I suggest that you look for young Stephan down at the casino. He’s a complete stereotype, he is. If he’s not on a toot, he’ll be in there.

Then the little feller grinned like he couldn’t be more pleased with life.

And if he’s drinking? asks Eustace. Where do we find him then?

In that case, you’ll have to wait for him to sober up and get paid for someone else’s job, then take the money from him before he gets to the casino and pisses it away on the slots. The little feller lowered his voice and leaned as close as he could, considering a two-hundred-pound pig had him pinned.

He’s got addictions, he said, like he was telling us a Pentagon secret. I’m just glad the family curse skipped me. Then he give us that big smile again and Eustace thanked him and backed away.

I didn’t leave right away because I was too taken at the sight of that big sow moving down the hallway in reverse, like a fat pink semitrailer backing into a loading dock. Her big bum brushed against the piles on either side, but she kept herself more or less in the middle. When she hit the turn in the path, she turned, neat as you please. I half expected to hear them beeps trucks make when they’re backing up.

The little feller noticed me staring. Oh bless her hide, he said. Isn’t she a beauty?

Me and Eustace didn’t say nothing until we got into the truck and he turned us onto the Lakes Road.

Have you ever? he said.

And I said, Holy Christ on the cross, I sure as hell have not.

Then we had another big laugh.

I’ll tell you one thing, them vet doctors probably have one of the most interesting careers a person could have.