Cesspool (7 page)

She took the tomato from his hand. “It has blossom rot. You’re prob’ly waterin’ too much. Too much water washes all the good stuff out. My grammy used to say rain’s enough. She said, if you give plants too much, they’ll be weak, just like people.”

“That’s good advice. Your grandmother sounds like a smart lady.”

She nodded.

“Could you take a look at my garden and orchard? I could really use some pointers from an expert.”

Her mouth turned up for a split second. “I ain’t no expert.”

James chuckled. “You are in comparison to me.”

James led her to the front yard.

“This is the orchard,” James said. “Something’s eating my fruit trees. The bark is torn off the trunks. The ends of the branches are chewed up.”

“Deer,” she said. “They love fruit trees. You have to fence ’em.”

James nodded. “That makes sense. It all happened in one night.”

“A herd prob’ly came through.”

“The garden is over here,” James said as he walked toward the driveway.

The girl followed a few paces behind. They stood looking at the garden with wilting yellowy plants and bare cracked earth.

“So this is it. Pretty sad, huh?” James said, motioning to his garden plot.

“I like your rock,” she said, pointing at the pinkish-white quartz in the middle of the garden.

“It’s the only thing I can’t kill.”

She laughed. “You definitely need some mulch.”

“What kind of mulch should I use?”

“Don’t matter. I would just take leaves from the woods. That’ll keep the soil from dryin’ out.”

James nodded. “I’m so dumb. I mean, I mulched my trees. Why wouldn’t I think to mulch the garden? Where did you learn to garden?”

“My grammy taught me to garden and cook when I was little.”

“Do you see her much?”

“She died.” The girl frowned.

“I’m sorry.”

She was blank-faced.

“What about your parents?” James asked.

“I should prob’ly get back,” she said.

“I just realized you never told me your name.”

“I’m Brittany.”

“It was nice to meet you, Brittany. Feel free to visit anytime. And thank you for all the expert advice.”

She flashed a small grin and marched back to the trail.

* * *

James sat on a stool at the end of the shiny countertop, finishing his coffee. Jessica attended to a trucker a few stools down from him. The police officers, Kurt’s father and brother, stood from their corner booth. James glanced over.
Every Monday night. Same time, same place
.

The old man tapped on the counter with his large gold ring as he passed Jessica. “Be good, girl,” he said before exiting the diner.

Does anything change in this town?

James finished his coffee, thanked Jessica, and left a generous tip. He started his truck and headed home. Shortly after leaving the diner, a car pulled behind him, headlights illuminating his rearview mirror. His stomach turned at the sight of the police car tailing him. He watched his speed and observed every traffic signal. The police officer tailgated him but did not turn on his flashing lights or his siren. They drove for ten minutes like this. James was nervous as he turned down the secluded gravel road that led to his cabin. They continued down the dark road for a few minutes. Finally, the officer turned on his blue and red lights.

James stopped his truck and cut the engine. The blue and red lights circled, and a bright white spotlight pierced the cab of his truck. He leaned over and fumbled through the glove box for his insurance and registration. The officer tapped James’s window with a lit flashlight.

“Roll down your window,” the officer said.

James obliged, setting his documentation on the seat next to him. The officer shone his flashlight in the cab, snooping with his eyes. James recognized him as the younger cop from the diner. His gold name tag read D. Strickland. Despite his bird beak, thinning hair, and faded acne scars, he was relatively handsome.

“License, registration, and proof of insurance,” Officer Strickland said.

James handed him his documentation. The officer took the papers and walked back to his cruiser without a word. Ten minutes later, the officer returned and handed James his documents.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” the officer asked.

“No,” James replied.

“Where you headed?”

“You should know that. You spent ten minutes looking at my address.”

Officer Strickland smacked the truck door with his flashlight. James jolted upright in his seat. The officer grinned. “You better watch your mouth, boy. I said, ‘Where you headed?’”

“Home.”

“Now was that so hard? People always gotta be so damn hardheaded. And why are you drivin’ on my roads at ten on a Monday night?”

James gritted his teeth. “I have class until 8:30. I did some paperwork, then I went to Dot’s Diner for dinner. Now I’m on my way home.”

“I know you’re new around here, so I’ll fill you in on a couple things. First off, people here treat police officers with respect. We don’t have that us-against-them crap you see on the news. This ain’t Ferguson. This is a small town, and everyone knows everyone. So, if you break the law, we’ll know about it. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right then. Be safe now.” Officer Strickland tapped on the door with his flashlight as he walked away.

* * *

James dumped leaves into the wheelbarrow with his pitchfork. The soil under the leaves was dark and crumbly. He spotted Brittany hiking the woody trail just beyond his property line.

“Brittany,” James called out.

She gave a wave and headed toward James.

“Hey, Brittany,” James said with a smile as she approached. “I’m following your expert advice from yesterday.” He forked another load of leaves into the wheelbarrow.

She blushed. “You listened to me?”

James shoved the fork in the wheelbarrow and turned to Brittany. She wore baggy jeans, a hooded sweatshirt, and a scarf that covered her neck.

“Of course I did,” he said. “It was good advice. You know, when I pulled out these leaves, the soil underneath was black and loose, not gray and compacted like my garden.”

“My grammy used to say, ‘Nature’s the best teacher.’” Brittany tucked her brown hair behind her ears.

“Sounds like she was a great lady.”

She nodded, her head down.

“Are you growing anything at your house?” James asked.

She looked up. “Mr. Harold don’t like fruits and vegetables. He says he’s a meat-and-potatoes man.”

James frowned. “So you don’t eat any fruits or vegetables?”

“I get ’em from the woods sometimes.”

“Really?” James asked with raised eyebrows.

She nodded. “I could show you.”

As they walked around his property, she pointed out the oxalis he had growing in his front yard.

“It tastes lemony,” she said.

James agreed as he munched on the cloverlike plant.

“Don’t eat too much of it. It’s a little poisonous.”

James grinned. “A
little
poisonous?”

She giggled and pointed out another plant. “This is goosefoot,” she said. “It’s kinda like spinach.”

James munched on a dark green leaf. “It does taste like spinach.”

“I seen you got a shagbark hickory too.” She led James into the woods separating their houses. She patted the enormous hickory trunk. The bark was loose and shaggy. Golf-ball-size green nuts littered the forest floor. Most still had the green shell covering, but some were cracking open, exposing the rock-hard light-brown shell inside. She picked up a nut. “You can eat these too. They can be tough to open. I use some stones, but my grammy used a nutcracker. They taste like pecans.”

James picked up a nut, the green covering already off.

“That one’s no good,” she said.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It got that little hole. Means it got worms inside.”

James tossed the nut. “What about fruit?”

“In the summer, I get lots of berries.” She grinned, her eyes twinkling. “For fall I know a spot that got persimmons and pawpaws. Nobody knows ’bout it neither.”

“I never had a persimmon. And what the heck is a pawpaw?”

She laughed. “You never heard of a pawpaw? It tastes kinda like banana custard, but you gotta try it for yourself, because nothin’s like it. Only a few pawpaws left for the season. I could take you sometime.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“We could go tomorrow or Friday. Mr. Harold’s a volunteer firefighter. He’s at the firehouse those days.”

James pursed his lips. “Does Harold not want you outside?”

She shrugged. “When he’s nappin’, I can go outside. He says I make too much noise.”

“I work nights, so my days are free. Why don’t we do it tomorrow?”

She smiled. “I’ll come here. It’s on the way to the pawpaws. I gotta get goin’. He might be up soon.” She hurried toward the trail.

“What time?” James called out.

She turned around. “When he goes to the firehouse.”

* * *

James followed Brittany through the forest. She moved gracefully, avoiding rocks and branches along the rustic trail. Her baggy jeans were rolled up several times at her feet, the belt cinched tight around her tiny waist. James stumbled along, his breathing elevated. She turned around and smiled. Her facial features were small and buttonlike.

“You need a break, Mr. James?”

He nodded.

They sat on a fallen tree trunk. She adjusted her scarf, covering up her neck. James pulled two water bottles from his backpack. He handed one to Brittany.

“I packed one for you,” he said in response to her wide eyes.

She took the water bottle and sipped. James guzzled his.

“I brought some trail mix too,” he said, pulling out two Ziploc bags filled with a variety of nuts and M&M chocolate candies.

She gorged herself on trail mix with a slight grin, her legs kicking back and forth against the tree. She glanced at James’s left hand as he pulled nuts from his Ziploc bag.

“Are you married?” she asked.

James’s mouth was a flat line.

“You got that wedding ring,” she said.

“I was.” James took a deep breath, holding up his left hand. “I guess I shouldn’t be wearing this anymore.”

“Did she die?” she asked, as if it was a common question.

James nodded. “She did … car accident.”

Brittany looked at James for a moment. “I’m real sorry.”

“Thanks, Brittany. I appreciate that.”

“It’s okay if you still wanna wear the ring.”

James looked at her with a small smile.

“When my gram died, … it was the saddest time for me,” she said.

“Is that when you came here?”

She shook her head and stared at the trail mix. “I was only ten when she died. I had to go back home.”

“How was living at home?”

She shrugged and pushed herself off the log. “You wanna get movin’? We’re almost there.”

James followed Brittany off the trail. They hiked downhill, grabbing trees to stabilize their descent. At the bottom of the slope, the ground was spongy, the land flat. Small tropical-looking trees grew in a grove under the forest canopy. Oblong fruits the size of a child’s hand hung in sporadic clusters. Brittany turned around, beaming.

“We’re here,” she said.

James set his backpack on the ground and pulled out a couple plastic bags. He handed one to Brittany. “I thought we could take some back with us. I read online that you can freeze them.”

Brittany’s mouth turned down. “I can’t.”

“We can keep everything in my freezer. You can come by and eat them whenever you want.”

She nodded and tucked her straight hair behind her ears, exposing a bruise on her cheek.

James winced. “What happened to your cheek?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Must’ve hit it on somethin’. Doesn’t hurt.” She rushed into the pawpaw grove and called back to James. “I’m gonna find the best one for you.”

She returned with a kidney-shaped greenish-yellow fruit. “Try this one. It’s soft. You just cut it in half.”

James took the fruit, inspecting the dark bruising on the skin. He removed the knife from his scabbard and sliced the fruit long ways. Inside looked like vanilla custard, with four evenly spaced large black seeds.

“That
is
a good one,” she said.

“Can you hold these?” James asked, handing the halves to Brittany. “I have spoons.” He removed his backpack and pulled two plastic spoons from the side pocket.

They dug their spoons into the pudding.

James savored the flavor before swallowing. “Wow. It’s like mango, banana, and little bit of citrus mixed together. But that’s not even exactly right.”

Brittany beamed. “I told you it was like nothin’ you ever had.” Her face turned serious. “You can’t tell anyone about this, okay?”

His eyes were wide. “About what?”

“About this place. If people find out, we’ll never get none.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” He smiled at Brittany. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“This is fun,” she said. “I could show you the persimmons tomorrow.”

“We could wait until Friday, if it’s easier for you.”

“The persimmons aren’t too far. I could get away. Harold always naps after I give him his lunch.”

“Are you sure it’s okay? I don’t want to get you into trouble.”

“It’d be easy. They’re right off the trail, about halfway between us.”

“We could meet on the trail, so you don’t have to walk as far,” James said. “What time do you think?”

“Lunchtime,” she replied.

James grinned. “I was thinking more of an exact time.”

“He eats at twelve, so I guess 12:30.”

“I’ll leave at that time too. We’ll meet in the middle.”

Chapter 7: Pie in the Sky

Chapter 7

Pie in the Sky

James hooked wire fencing on green T-posts, encircling each fruit tree just beyond the drip line.
Ugly but hopefully effective
. He gazed up at the clouds, dark and heavy. He fished his phone from his pocket and checked the time.
Already 12:27 p.m. I should get moving. Hopefully the rain holds off
.