The Last American Martyr (22 page)

I was curious to find out what kind of places they’d spent so many nights in but didn’t want to sound like I was prying. Homelessness had become a rampant societal disease in this country. I knew that in places such as California this human tragedy was so bad, there were entire parking lots designated for people who lived in their vehicles. I’d heard that when the unfortunates were allowed in for the night, the lots quickly filled to capacity. I was sure the Lockerby’s had slept in places far worse and that their story wasn’t a pretty one. I asked Jerrod, “Where did you stay down there, RV parks, places like that?”

“We’d do that a couple of times a week, you know, so we and the kids could freshen up and such. But them places ain’t too cheap anymore, and a lot of ‘em wouldn’t let us spend the night because this here ain’t a camper,” he said, swooping his hand back toward his van.

“I hear you there,” I said nodding my head, “so you want to step up to a camper now.”

“Yup, that’s what we were hopin’,” Jenny Lockerby said. Then raising her eyes to the camper, they suddenly came to life. Looking at it adoringly, she said, “Wow…this is some beauty! Can we have a looksee inside?”

“Well, of course, here, let me get the door for you.”

As I held it and they climbed in, I glanced at the blonde-haired kids in the van. They looked to be from three to six years old, and each of them had hopeful looks on their faces. From behind the window, they all waved at me and wore smiles as wide as the country they’d just crossed. It was easy to see these were well-behaved children. Somehow, they also seemed happy. Surely, they’d been dreaming for a long time about having some sort of home. I waved and smiled back. Then I gave Julie, who’d been watching all along, a little finger wave and followed Jerrod and Jennie inside the camper.

They absolutely loved it. Jennie stroked the three-burner stove as if it was a thing of her dreams. They both figured—if Montana didn’t work out for them, they could always start up the engine and try their luck somewhere else. At least they’d have a home. When Jennie asked if she could show the kids the inside, I said sure. Jerrod then asked if we could step outside and talk.

“Mister Soles,” he said, after we’d walked around the outside, “I really want to buy yer camper. It’s a real beauty, and my Jennie, well, you can tell she likes it, too. But I have one problem.”

“What’s the problem, Jerrod?”

“Well,” he said lifting his red cap, stroking back his hair, “I don’t want to sound like no finagler, ‘cause I’m not. I’m just talkin’ man to man is all, being honest.”

“Go ahead,” I said in an understanding tone, nodding my head, letting him know I’d consider whatever it was he had to say.”

“Anyway…” he took a deep breath as he glanced to the grass at his feet, let it back out when he looked back at me, “all I got is fourteen-thousand-five-hunert dollars in the world, Mistuh Soles. I know I’m gonna need ‘bout five hunert more n’ that with the tax, plates, and all that. What I’m tryin’ to say here is…and please, don’t get mad or insulted or anything ... what I’m tryin’ to say is I could give you twelve thousand. That’s the most I can. I gotta have the other twenty-five hunert for…”

“No, Jerrod,” I interrupted, “I can’t take your twelve…”

”That’s okay,” he cut in, struggling to put a smile on his tired, disappointed face, “I unnerstand. This here’s a fine unit, and I know what you’re askin’ is more than fair.”

He put out his hand to show there were no hard feelings, and I took it. As we shook, I said, “Congratulations, Jerrod, you just bought your family a new home.”

“Whaddaya mean, Mistuh Soles? I thought you jus’ said ya couldn’t take twelve.”

“Yes, I did say that, but I don’t want twelve from you. I just want ten-thousand dollars, and I’m going to give you the keys and title. I want you and your family to have this camper, and I want you to have enough left over so you have a fair chance of making it up here.”

“Hot damn, I, I don’t know what to say,” he said, wiping both his glazed eyes with the back of his hand. “You can’t imagine how happy I am right now. You don’t know how good Jennie and the kids are going feel.”

This young man, who hadn’t caught a break in a long time, was fighting hard not to cry. I knew the deepest source of his tears was the hardship he and his family had suffered, but there was tremendous relief in them as well.

I patted him on the back saying, “Why don’t you dry your eyes, Jerrod. Then we can go inside and tell everyone the good news.”

The following morning, shortly after the banks opened, the Lockerby’s returned with a cashier’s check. I didn’t tell them, but right after my early jog I’d driven the camper to the truck stop and filled it with gas. Of course, I had told Julie the afternoon before what the young family had endured for so long and about the deal I had given Jerrod.

As they drove the camper out of the clearing, Julie and I watched with heartfelt smiles until Jerrod, followed by Jennie in the dilapidated van, turned onto the dirt road and disappeared into the trees. But our contentment did not last. The moment they were out of sight that peaceful, benevolent feeling Julie and I had shared left with them. The next order of business was to go into Missoula and shop for a car for me.

Julie and I brought my few belongings to her place. She put the cats in the back bedroom, and we left Solace with the run of the cabin. She didn’t like being left behind, but with the inevitable test-drives and negotiation process in front of us, there was no way we could bring her along.

We checked out a considerable number of dealerships and used car lots before I zeroed in on something I liked; a maroon, six-year-old Subaru Outback. I’d been adamant about buying a four-wheel drive for the Maine winters and despite this one’s age, it only had 31,000 miles on the odometer. It also had very dark, tinted windows which was a big plus. Other than a little superficial rust on the undercarriage, the car was in fine shape. It was obvious it had been loved by its previous owners, just as the camper had been before I bought it back in New Jersey.

With Julie by my side in the showroom and all the salesmen, young and old, ogling at her, I played the necessary games for an hour and a half before closing the deal. By the time I jumped through the last hoop and was handed the keys and temporary plates, it was four in the afternoon. When I finally followed Julie’s pickup out of the lot, it felt like I had put in a full day’s work. But it had been worth it. Not only was I confident I’d bought a dependable vehicle for a relatively fair price, but I also felt much safer. It was far less conspicuous than the camper. No longer did the legions of Soles Haters know what I’d be driving, unless there had been a devout member at the dealership who recognized me. If there hadn’t been, all I had to do next was pick up Solace and my things at Julie’s—without Sean Garrity seeing me. If I could pull that off, I just might remain anonymous on the long trip back east.

As I tailed Julie on the Interstate, the Bitterroots before us grew larger with every mile marker we passed. Swelling even more than the mountains was the mixture of anxiety and dread I felt. I was very concerned Garrity might see me. As for the dread, there were two parts to that spirit-sapping emotion. Not only did I have to say goodbye to a woman I had come to love, but I had to do it quickly. And that certainly isn’t the kind of thing anybody should have to rush through.

For me to have found someone like Julie Dubois in this day and age was like finding the way from chaos to nirvana. As I steered the Subaru behind her silver pickup, I damn well realized how fortunate I was to have a person like her care so much for me. I wanted more than anything to stay with her, start a new life. I was sure of that. But three obstacles were standing in my way, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever get over or around them. And that’s exactly what I told Julie an hour later when I was ready to leave her place.

With the sun setting behind those beautiful mountains and the Subaru all loaded up, I took a nervous glance at the entry road as I opened the passenger door for Solace. After she hopped in, I closed the door and turned to Julie for possibly the last time ever. Looking up at me, her eyes squinting from the pain she was trying to fight off, she tried to be strong. She took my hand in both of hers and said, “Tom, we can work everything out. We belong together. And I’m willing to do whatever I have to.”

“Julie, I can’t stay, not now. Maybe down the road we’ll be able to work something out.” I dropped my head, massaged my temples then looked back at her. “Look, you know I care for you deeply…you know I love you, but I’ve got those things I told you about working against me.”

“Yeah, I know,” she said, as her eyes began to well up, “but I don’t give a good goddamn about taking chances. I just told you I’m willing to do anything to be with you.”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, “I am not going to jeopardize your life. I checked that fucking Soleswatch last night. They know I’m here now.”

“That son-of-a-bitch, Sean! They’ve really tracked you to Missoula? He better never show his face…”

“No, Julie. I don’t want you complicating your life for me. Just let it go. Act like you don’t know about it. Go back to the life you led before I came along.”

With that, she dropped my hand and put hers on her waist. Jutting her face closer to mine she said, “Are you out of your mind, Tom? My life is never going to be the same again. Damn it”, she went on, now with tears in her lashes, “you’re part of me now. You’re inside my heart, Tom. I can’t shove anything I want in or out of there. You’re there and you’re going to stay there.”

Putting my hands on her small shoulders, kneading them gently, I shot another quick look at the road again then said, “If I could spend whatever time I have left with you, Julie, and I knew nothing would happen to you, I would stay. I, I would kill myself if what happened to…to Elaina happened to you too. I refuse to…”

“Hold it, Tom. I know Elaina is still between us, and if you stayed she’d always be there. I would never expect you to just forget her. That’s impossible. She’s been part of you for far too long. I also know that you feel guilty about what you and I shared the other night. But I know this, too…I am dead sure that if you stayed with me, together, as time passed, I’d become a part of you, too.”

“You already are! You know that, Julie.”

Then I took one last nervous glance at the road and said, “I’ve got to go. Sean could be pulling into here any second now. I don’t want to complicate this mess anymore than…”

“This mess, is that what you think this is?” Julie asked, breaking down into tears now.

I threw my arms around her and held her as tightly as I dared.

“Stop talking that nonsense,” I said, rocking her slowly, “I need time, Julie. I’ve got to see if I can pull myself together. Maybe someday we’ll figure out a way to work all this out. I promise; I’ll try my hardest to think of something. But listen to me,” I said, leaning my head back now, looking into her eyes again, “there’s no time now. I’ve got to get out of here.”

We kissed then. It was a long, lovely, heartfelt declaration of love that neither of us ever wanted to end. When I finally pulled my lips from hers, she said, “I’ll be waiting, Tom, right here.”

“I can’t guarantee anything, Julie. This might take a long time. I expect you to go on. If you meet someone else…”

She interrupted me with a shake of her beautiful head. When she did it, there were tears on her cheeks, and her eyes were closed. She acted as if the words I said—and was about to say—were visible things that she refused to look at.

When she did open her eyes, the last thing she said was, “I’ll be here, Tom. No matter what you say, I’ll be here…for as long as it takes.”

Chapter 21

For much of the four-day drive to Maine, my mind was in a quagmire. Not only did I keep chastising myself for making love to Julie that one time, but I constantly weighed my longing for Julie against the loss of Elaina. With every mile the Subaru ate up, I hurt more for leaving Julie, yet I believed all the more I was doing the right thing as far as Elaina was concerned. Despite all the uncertainty and confusion sloshing around in my head, one realization continually rose to the surface—there were now two holes in my heart, and I couldn’t go back to Julie until, if and when, the other one began to heal.

With my emotions in such a tight tangle, I desperately
needed
to go to Maine. I needed time. I also needed to stay alive, but I questioned that need because it was so doubtful I’d ever be able to live a normal life again, no matter where I was. I supposed the only thing keeping me going was the deep-rooted, instinctual, human desire to survive. But I questioned that also. Some of us eventually lose that drive, and I knew I’d already come close to losing mine in that Florida rest stop six months earlier.      

The twenty-eight-hundred-mile drive to Bangor was, for the most part, uneventful, which was fine by me. It was near impossible for any Soles haters to recognize me in my new car with the dark windows. Whenever I got out for gas, coffee, or food, I kept my sunglasses on and pulled my brown cap low enough to meet them. Once inside gas stations, truck stops, takeout restaurants, or motel lobbies, I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, without coming across as peculiar. But something occurred on the second night of the trip that could seriously jeopardize my anonymity.

Solace and I were in a Motel 6 outside of Minneapolis; both of us road weary; lying on a bed, nibbling on pretzels. I’d already taken a shower and was doing my nightly Soleswatch checkup on the laptop. The screen still showed my last spotting in Missoula, but there was a new addition to the five sketches of me. It was photograph of me with Solace, outside the camper, on Julie’s property. I knew a telescopic lens had been used to take it because our faces were uncomfortably clear, and the snapshot had been taken from the direction of the river. Since I’d always backed the camper right up to the water, I knew the shot had been taken from the woods beyond.

I also knew perfectly well who took it. And now, by exposing Solace, he’d made it far more difficult for me to remain unrecognizable.