The Good Neighbor (21 page)

“No, they aren’t,” said Colt. “Bones can last for centuries, some times. And even if they are, it’s like...
pollution
, or
contamination
!” “Hey, now,” said Flebberman. “They’re not contaminatin’ any

thing.”

“Colt, those people are Mr. Flebberman’s family,” said Francie.

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“Dang, dude, chill out,” said Michael, greatly amused at this squeamish side of his brother-in-law. “They’re not going to like grab you from under your bed or anything.”

Colt shook his head and sighed. Then he headed for his car. “I’m going to make a few calls, think about it,” he said over his shoul der. “Bottom line is, it’s on my property. So it’s my decision.”

“Colt,” said Francie.

“Uh,” said Flebberman anxiously.

Colt opened the door of his Camaro and waited. “Yes?” he said.

Flebberman’s face hardened.

“Well, forget it. If that’s the way it’s gonna be,” he said, “then I quit.”

Colt snorted. “Quit what?”

“You just hired me. Now I quit. That’s what.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I guess I’ll just have to hire some other guy with a snowplow on the front of his truck,” said Colt. “That shouldn’t be too much of a challenge. I saw about forty of them yesterday.” He got in his car and slammed the door. Then he revved the engine and backed out onto the road, taking off with out a backward glance.

15
‌

Breathing

A
n awkward silence fell over the four of them in the drive way. Owen Westerbrook’s eyes were wide. His mouth hung open

in a perfect O, as if he’d just seen a traffic accident. Francie turned to Flebberman, who had gone pale with shock and rage.

“I am so sorry,” she said to him. She looked at Michael, who cringed. “It was supposed to be a
secret
.”

“Hunnerd fifty years they been buried there, some of ’em,” said Flebberman. “Nobody ever bothered with ’em before. No need to. Now you folks just move in here and think you can do whatever you want? It’s not right!”

“I’m on your side, Mr. Flebberman,” said Francie soothingly. “Believe me. I’ll work on him. I won’t allow this to happen.”

“They’re my people,” said Flebberman. “This was their place. They’re restin’, for Chrissakes! You can’t just move ’em! Just ’cause he buys the place . . .”

“He called my mom a bitch, too,” said Owen Westerbrook. “I don’t ’preciate that.”

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OWALSKI

“I’m sorry about that, Owen. I’ll take care of this, don’t you worry,” said Francie. “I’ll fix everything. I promise.”

“How?” asked Flebberman. He looked sick to his stomach. “I’m not sure,” said Francie, biting her lip. “But—I’ll think of

something. I promise. I’m really sorry.”

“Well, you—you oughta be,” said Flebberman. “You damn well oughta be!”

He got into his truck. Owen got in the passenger side and slammed the door, his chin high with righteous indignation. Fleb berman rolled down his window.

“You goddamn people move in here and right away you think you can do whatever the hell you want!” he shouted. “Who the hell you think you are, anyway? Whyncha go back where you came from!”

“Mis—Mister Flebberman!” said Francie. “Please, don’t. He’s not—he doesn’t understand—”

Flebberman and Owen pulled out of the driveway before she could finish, the heavy wheels of the truck spinning in the packed snow, then grabbing and propelling them up the hill. The silence they left behind them was as loud as a waterfall. When they were gone, Francie turned to Michael, who was still smothered in shame, head hanging.

“I can’t believe you,” said Francie. “What’s the matter with you? Didn’t I ask you not to tell anybody?”

“I’m sorry, Sissie, I just . . . got carried away, I guess,” said Michael. “I don’t see what the big deal is, anyway. You think he wasn’t going to find it, sooner or later? You think you can hide something like a cemetery? And besides, it’s not my fault he freaked like that. Dude’s crazy, or something. It’s like he almost had an allergic reaction.”

“But I told you not to tell him, dammit!”

“Jeez, Francie,” Michael said. “You don’t have to get all mad on me!”

“I’m sorry. It’s just—he just doesn’t
understand
this place,” Francie said—not sure that she quite understood it herself. Per

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haps it was that she felt connected already—to the diary, to the hidey-hole, to the cemetery and the people in it. And she knew that Colt would never feel that way. “He thinks this place is going to be like a... I don’t know, a medal around his neck. He wants to bring his business buddies out here and show off. He wanted to put a golf course back there, for heaven’s sake. Colt is not the kind of person who appreciates history.”

“That Flebberman guy was pretty upset.”

“He
should
be upset,” Francie said. “Look at it from his point of view, Michael. And from mine, too. We show up here and in less than twenty-four hours we’re already making enemies. This is not good. I didn’t want to have these kinds of problems. I am not a confrontational person.”

“Well, maybe he’ll get over it,” said Michael. He yawned and stretched his arms. “Anyway, listen, Sissie, I’m going back to sleep. You got me up way too early.”

Francie laughed disbelievingly.

“What’s the matter with you?” she said again. “Is that all you can think of? Sleep?”

“Well, jeez,” he said, “Waddaya want me to do? You woke me up at like five
A
.
M
.”

“I don’t know!” she said. “But do something! Say something in telligent and perceptive! Something that lets me know you’re in there somewhere!”

“Well, excuse me,” Michael said, hurt. “Maybe you should go back to Indiana so you can hang out with all your smart college friends, then!”

“That’s not what I mean!” Francie said. “I didn’t . . . ”

Michael stood, waiting for whatever she was going to say. But she saw that there was no point in saying it; he would just take it, and wait for her to stop being mad at him, and then things would go back to being the same as they always had. You never got any where yelling at Michael. It was better just to let him be himself, and not expect too much.

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OWALSKI

But suddenly Francie decided she had had enough of that. Why should she expect any less of him just because he was her little brother? Maybe it was going off the pills; maybe it was revenge for telling about the cemetery. She would never know what made her cross the driveway to his Volkswagen bus and wrench open the sliding door. But once she did, she passed the point of no re turn. Instantly she was overwhelmed by a pungent odor that made her wrinkle her nose. There, in a neat stack, she saw ten brick-shaped bundles, wrapped in plastic garbage bags and duct tape, each about a foot long and six or eight inches high.

Michael came up behind her. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Looking. To see if you were serious.”

“Well, I was,” he said.

“You don’t even try to hide it?”

“What’s the point? If a cop pulled me over, he’d smell it before he even left his car. He wouldn’t even need to call for the dogs.”

Francie turned to face her brother.

“Michael,” Francie said, “I want you to go and get rid of this stuff. Today. Right now.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “What?” he said, incredulous. “Right this minute? Are you kidding?”

Francie crossed her arms. “Do I look like I’m kidding?” she asked.

“Well, Sissie . . . what am I supposed to
do
with it?”

“You should just . . . turn it in. Just go to the cops and let them have it. Come clean with them. Tell them everything.”

“Come clean with the
cops
? Are you nuts? You know what they’ll do to me?”

“Whatever it is, it won’t be as bad as you think. Come on, Michael, we have murderers and rapists walking the streets. They just check into jail and check out again. What do you think they’re going to do, send you to the guillotine? You’ll feel better if you get this resolved. Then you won’t have it hanging over your head anymore.”

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Michael laughed, as if still hoping it was some kind of joke— but another look at Francie told him she was in no mood.

“Wait. You’re serious,” he said.

“Yeah, I’m serious,” said Francie, “and another thing. You never should have brought it here to begin with. Think about how self ish that was, Michael. Really think about it, for once in your life. If you got caught here, we would all get in trouble. They’d think we were
all
dealers. They could confiscate the house and property, and we’d never get it back. Do you realize that?”

“Well—Sissie,” Michael said, “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.

What was I supposed to do, take it to Mom and Dad’s place?” “Why should you have to take it anywhere? Why should this

be anyone else’s problem but your own?”

“Okay, well,” he said. “Think about the guys who own it! Whatever they’re gonna do to me is a lot worse than what the cops would do. I’m tellin’ you, Francie. They have to get it back.”

“I thought you said they were nice guys.” “Yeah, well, business is business.”

“Well then, take it back to Denver,” she said. “I mean it. Today, right now. Take it somewhere. Anywhere but here.”

Michael looked at her woefully.

“Denver is like three days away,” he said. “Francie, I’m broke. I’m flat busted. I don’t get another check from Dad for a whole month.”

“Don’t,” she said. “Don’t even try it.”

“Try
what
?” Michael shrieked. He threw his arms up in the air and began marching back and forth. “I’m not trying
anything
! Francie, come on! I need a break here!” He stopped suddenly and glared at her, suspicious. “You’re mad I told him about the ceme tery, aren’t you? That’s what this is really about.”

“Of course it’s not about the cemetery,” she said, though in fact it was—at least a little bit.

“What, then?”

Francie sighed. “Michael, I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to listen. I mean,
really listen
. Okay?”

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OWALSKI

“Okay,” Michael said. “I’m listening.”

“Something happened to me yesterday, while I was in the su permarket. Something . . . huge. And things are different with me now. Everything, as a matter of fact. You understand? My entire life. Something shifted, somehow. I don’t quite understand it, but that doesn’t matter. All you have to know is that things are not going to be like they were before. Not anymore.”

“That must have been some supermarket,” Michael said.

“No, you
idiot
,” Francie said, “the
supermarket
had nothing to do with it. It’s—well, I don’t know what it was. I thought it was a breakdown, but really it was a break
through
. And there are certain things that just can’t happen anymore. And you having a busload of drugs on my property is one of them. I love this place, Michael. I belong here. So I want you to do this, before you do anything else. And I don’t want you to come back until it’s taken care of.”

Michael sighed.

“Can I at least have some breakfast first?” he asked.

She crossed her arms again, not smiling back. “I’ll loan you a hundred dollars,” she said. “That’s it. Add it to the thousands I’ve given you over the years. And I expect you to pay me back for all of it. Eventually.”

Michael threw his arms up in the air again.

“Oh, my God! Fucking shit!” he screamed at the sky. “What the fuck is going on all of a sudden? It’s like . . . a nightmare, or some thing!”

“Michael! You don’t have to talk like that!”

“Tell me why, Francie. Why? Why does everything have to be different all of a sudden, just like that? What did I do? Huh? Tell me that! What did I do that was so wrong?”

“Everything has to change, eventually,” she said. “You have to take responsibility, Michael. This is your mess.”

“IT’S SNOWY!” Michael yelled at her. “THERE’S A HOLE IN MY FLOOR! I’LL DIE!”

“No, you won’t,” she said.

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“I might!”

“Michael,” Francie said, “it’s time for you to grow up.”

He stared at her, a small noise of disbelief escaping from the back of his throat.

“Fine,” he said. “Be a fucking bitch about it, then.” “I’ll pretend you didn’t just say that,” said Francie.

She went into the house and took five twenties from her purse. When she came out again, Michael was scraping ice off the side windows of his bus. Francie watched, saying nothing. When he was done, he pushed past her, went into the house, and came out again, dragging his air mattress after him. She held the money out and he grabbed it from her without a word as he went by, like a re lay racer. He opened the sliding side door of the bus and threw the mattress in. Then he got in the driver’s side and started up the en gine. It took several moments for it to catch, and he held her gaze all that time, eyebrows lowered. Finally he unrolled his window.