Solitary: A Novel (30 page)

"I am now," I say. "I'm a part of you. Like it or not, that's the way things are."

I eventually ride my bike home after we agree to meet up later.

There's something else she wants to show me.

As if she hasn't shown me enough.

I keep thinking of the gun I found in my bedroom closet, of the words my mother told the group at school. Telling them I would never use a handgun. Ever.

I thought that too. I believed I wouldn't.

But now I'm having a change of heart.

I'm relieved to find Mom home and awake. She doesn't ask where I've been. The small talk I make with her over breakfast is just that.

I spend the morning doing some rearranging in my room.

First off, I hide the handgun in a secure place. I put it under the bottom of my desk drawers in a place that can only be retrieved by lifting the heavy wooden desk up. Next I check out the room to see if I find anything else strange or interesting. I'm going through Uncle Robert's old clothes when I'm startled by Mom calling up to me that I have a phone call.

I run down to get it, thinking that it's Jocelyn.

"Hey, man, you busy right now?"

It's surprising to hear Ray Spencer's voice on the other end. It takes me a second to even place it.

"No."

"Awesome. Hey-just wanted to tell you about another party tonight."

"Okay."

He goes into detail about his friend having the party and gives me directions. I act like I'm paying attention and tell him I'll definitely stop by, but I already have plans of my own.

Of course I can't tell him that.

I can't tell anybody.

"Thanks for the call."

A part of me wonders if there's any coincidence.

I don't trust anybody.

"Make sure you come, man. It'll be good for you."

"Okay," I tell him.

When I hang up, I walk to my deck and look outside.

Why do I keep getting this feeling that we're being watched?

I don't know who or from where, but I know I'm not entirely crazy.

Something's going on here.

I need to figure out exactly what so I can help Jocelyn.

It's five and I'm heading out when I see Mom on the couch, still in sweatpants and a T-shirt, looking just like she did when she got out of bed. She holds a glass of wine; the bottle sits on the table.

"You going out?"

She looks and sounds a little too friendly, a little too relaxed.

"Yeah. Probably going to a party tonight."

"How are you getting there?"

"I'm riding my bike into town."

"Okay."

I stand there, watching whatever's on television for a few minutes. "You going to be fine?"

"Of course," she says.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

On my bike ride into town I wonder if things will ever be the same for her. The divorce was one thing, but my mom had a whole life back in Illinois. Other moms and friends she hung out with. A whole social life. Splintered and sunk so easily.

I feel a bit guilty leaving her behind, but I want to see Jocelyn. If there's an opportunity, I'll take it.

We just have to see each other in private.

I wish I could see my dad again to tell him what a mess he made, tell him that he should be there for Mom and that she shouldn't have to be working and living someone else's life. There's nothing here for her. At least I've found something. But Mom-she hasn't found anything, and it doesn't look like she will anytime soon.

The anger builds inside as I enter the main road of Solitary.

Anger toward Dad, toward what he did to us. Anger toward who he chose instead.

This all goes away when I see the figure coming out of the convenience store. Pastor Jeremiah Marsh.

He smiles in a strange, creepy kind of way. For some reason it makes my skin crawl.

"Hello, Chris."

I greet him and stop the bike at the edge of the sidewalk.

"Need to have you come back to church sometime."

"Sure," I say just to say it.

"You need to bring your mother, too."

"Okay."

"That a for-sure thing?"

"Well, I don't know-I'll have to check it out with my mom. She works a lot."

"Chris?" The voice sounds like someone on the radio.

"Yeah."

"Don't lie."

"Yeah, okay."

The narrow eyes study me from behind the glasses, his mouth revealing a mousy smile.

"There's enough love for everybody," the pastor says. "You just have to know where to find it."

I nod, not having a clue what else to say.

There's enough crazy, too, so sell that somewhere else.

"You have a good day, young man. Take good care of yourself."

Why is it that every single person I talk to seems to threaten me?

Is it just me?

Am I the crazy one?

I say goodbye and pedal faster down the main road.

I can't shake the goose bumps that cover me.

And the feeling that the guy I'm pedaling away from is worthy of them.

Sable Road makes a straight line through the heart of Solitary, with the store buildings on one side and the train tracks on the other. As the tracks head on toward the opening in the woods, the street curves right and upward past a few more buildings (a garage housing a fire truck, a veterinarian's clinic, some offices) until it gets to a fork. I take my bike to the right, farther up the hill where the road stretches out and passes a long, one-story white building that looks new. I haven't been here before, but I know it's the library.

Jocelyn told me to meet her inside.

It takes me a good ten minutes to find her. If she's trying to stay hidden, she's doing a good job of it. I find her at the end of an aisle of books, pretending to read something. I greet her, but she shakes her head, then nods toward a window behind her. She starts walking, and I follow.

Before getting to the main area of the library, Jocelyn stops me and tells me to wait a few minutes, then to meet me behind the library. I do as she orders, my bike safely locked at the front.

A few minutes later, I crawl inside the jeep, acting like I'm some wanted man making a run for it.

"Stay down for a little while," Jocelyn tells me as she whips the car back out onto the main street.

I stay crouched as much as possible as the car winds around the streets. Finally she says okay, and I sit back up.

We're driving on a rocky road I don't recognize. "Where are we heading?"

"You'll see," she tells me. "How was the rest of your day?"

"Boring."

"Boring is good, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so," I say. "It's better than something bad happening."

"I left right as Wade was getting home. He doesn't work tomorrow, so it's going to be a long night for him."

I want to ask her things about her step-uncle, but I can't. I feel like despite how much Jocelyn has told me, certain things are off limits. I wouldn't know what to say even if I got answers to my questions.

Sometimes it's best to keep questions to yourself.

"I shouldn't be showing you this, but I just have to."

"What?"

"You'll see."

"Any hints?"

"No."

The road goes through low-hanging trees that scrape the top of the jeep. Jocelyn slows down as we turn left and go over a bridge leading farther up into the hills. After a few more minutes, the woods once again turning dark from the sunset, she pulls her car to the side of the road and shuts it off.

"We're taking a side way to watch. Nobody will know we're here since we're parking here. Nobody uses this road. People aren't supposed to drive over that bridge."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's weak in spots. Doesn't stop me."

"Does anything?"

She smiles and climbs out of the jeep.

I hear the sound of water. It's louder than the creek that's below my house. Jocelyn goes to the edge of the road and peers into the woods.

"This should be good. Come on."

It's hard to get used to driving for a few minutes and then being stuck in the middle of nowhere, in complete wilderness. The hill is steep just like the one around my house, and I watch my step as I go down the slope sideways. Jocelyn walks down the slope, stepping in a way that makes it seem like she's done this before. We walk for a few minutes, the sound of the gushing water getting louder and louder.

Soon I see where it's coming from.

The forest levels out for a while. Jocelyn stops, looks around, then finds what she's looking for.

"Right over here. Come on."

We reach a set of clustered trees and stop. She points in front of them, where the woods open up.

Even though the light is fading, I still can see the waterfalls.

They're mesmerizing, both in sight and sound.

In the middle of the woods against the side of the sloping mountain, some massive rocks create a series of waterfalls. I see three places where the rocks jut outward to form this, like a set of stone tiers. The water looks light and endless, its water falling down to the stream below.

I wonder if this stream is connected in any way to the one in front of my house.

"Those are Marsh Falls," Jocelyn says in a voice a little above a whisper. "This turns into the Basset River that gets really big farther down the mountain."

The water is very loud, and it's hard to hear her since she's talking in a faint voice.

If it was another evening I might think Jocelyn had brought me here as a romantic gesture, but the way we're peering behind these trees and the way she's talking make me think that something's about to happen.

"We have to wait for a few minutes."

"Wait for what?" I shout out.

"Just be patient. You're so impatient."

I laugh and shake my head. Just as I'm about to say something along the lines of, "You've brought me into the middle of the woods by a set of falls just after showing me what you think is a cemetery of murdered people, so yeah, pardon me if I'm a little curious," Jocelyn puts a finger on her lips.

"Just watch. But don't let them see you."

"Let who see me?"

My question is soon answered. Through streaks of sunlight that soften into a hazy, warm glow, I see a figure emerging from the woods to the right of the falls about halfway up. This allows me to see how big the rocks are, especially the top, which tower over the man.

I just see the figure-a man, dark-haired, tall, older.

Then he puts a hood over his head and steps on the edge of the second tier of rocks where the water from above is landing.

He ducks down and disappears beneath the white, cascading water.

"Who was that?" I ask.

"Just watch."

This same thing happens four times in the next few minutes. That means five men have come out of the woods in the middle of nowhere to go underneath these falls.

"What's behind there?"

She smiles, shakes her head, then looks back out to the falls. "Come on. Let's go back to the car."

"Jocelyn, wait."

"I'll tell you. It's too loud to talk here. I don't want them seeing us. I shouldn't have brought you here."

"Then why did you?"

"Because this place-those people-they might be able to help you.

We climb into the solitude where the sound of the falls can barely be heard. It seems a lot darker in her car now.

"That group meets there every Saturday night," Jocelyn tells me.

"So what are they, some kind of cult?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"It's a group of people-mostly men, a few women-who meet once a week. That's their church."

"Behind the falls?"

Jocelyn nods.

"Okay."

"Don't you get it?"

"The longer time goes by, the more I don't get."

"They're a normal church, nothing weird about it."

"How do you know?"

"I've been. A few times."

"What?"

"Yeah," Jocelyn says.

"Do they know all the stuff about-"

"No."

"Then why did you go?"

"I was invited by one of them. You don't just go. You get invited. They have to be very, very careful."

"Why?"

"Because worshipping God isn't liked very much around here."