William Krueger - Ordinary Grace

Jake came looking for me, sent by my parents who’d begun to be concerned by my long absence. He found me sitting in the sand.

“What are you doing down here?”

“Thinking,” I said.

“Will you come back up?”

“Tell everyone I’ll walk home. I’ll walk along the river.”

“Are you okay?”

“Just tell them, Jake.”

“All right. Don’t bite my head off.”

He started away and then came back. “What is it, Frank?”

“Go up and tell them, and if you want to talk, come back down.”

He returned in a few minutes, huffing so I knew he’d run the whole way. He sat down beside me.

It was late afternoon and we sat in shadows cast by the tall cottonwoods near the tracks. The river swept before us fifty yards wide and beyond that was the other bank and the lowland of the floodplain where a cornfield formed a green wall and beyond that a mile or so distant rose the hills that had once channeled the great surge of the River Warren.

“He killed her,” I said.

“Who?”

“Mr. Brandt. He killed Ariel.”

“What?”

“All this time I’ve been blaming Warren Redstone and not looking at what was right in front of me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Mr. Brandt killed her. He killed her and brought her down here and threw her into the river.”

“Are you crazy? He’s blind.”

“I closed my eyes, Jake, and pretended I was blind. I came down here without a problem. If I could do it, he could do it, too.”

“But why would he hurt Ariel?”

“Because she was pregnant and the baby was his.”

“No. He’s too old. And his face is all scarred up. I mean, if I didn’t know him so well, I’d get the willies just looking at him.”

“That’s the point. You know him well, and it doesn’t bother you. I think it didn’t bother Ariel either. She was in love with him.”

“That, well, that’s just stupid.”

“Think about it. She talked forever about wanting to go to Juilliard, and then suddenly she didn’t. She wanted to stay here. Why? Because Mr. Brandt is here.”

“Maybe it was because of Karl.”

“Karl was leaving for college,” I said. “He told us so. When I asked him if he loved Ariel and was going to marry her he said no. Now I understand it was because he didn’t love her that way. Who else was Ariel seeing? If it was another boy, wouldn’t we know? The only other guy she’s been close to is Mr. Brandt. Think about it, Jake. She was over here all the time.”

“But wouldn’t Lise know?”

I remembered the afternoon when I’d stood in the doorway of her bedroom watching her iron naked and she hadn’t been aware of me at all and I said to Jake, “She’s deaf. And I think Ariel sometimes sneaked over at night when Lise was asleep.”

“But why would he kill her, Frank? Was he mad at her or something? It doesn’t make sense.”

I picked up a rock and threw it at the river and said, “Adults do a lot of things that don’t make sense.”

“Why haven’t Mom and Dad thought about it? I mean, if you’re so sure, why aren’t they?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they like him too much to even let that thought in.”

Jake drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them and stared at the river. “So what do we do?”

“We tell Gus,” I said.

We had a hard time finding him. It was Sunday afternoon and almost everything was closed. We checked Rosie’s parking lot and didn’t see the Indian Chief there. We wandered around town awhile and didn’t talk much because what we were thinking drove out all desire for conversation between us. Once the idea of what Mr. Brandt had done to Ariel came to me I couldn’t stop playing the scene over and over in my head. I kept seeing him heave her onto his shoulder like a rolled-up rug and stumble his way down the path and discard her in the river. I grew angrier and angrier and my insides knotted and I thought about just going up to Emil Brandt and throwing my accusation in his face. And I imagined the police-Doyle-grabbing him roughly and slapping on handcuffs and shoving him into the cruiser and taking him away.

“I hope he didn’t do it,” Jake said out of nowhere.

We were walking down Tyler Street toward home. It was nearing suppertime and I didn’t want our parents worrying about us so we were walking quickly but I was also propelled by sheer anger.

I said, “He did it and I hope he goes to hell for it.”

Jake didn’t say anything so I pressed him. “Don’t you?”

“Not really.”

I stopped and turned to him, seething. “He killed Ariel, Jake. He killed our sister, and if the police don’t kill him, I will.”

Jake turned from my anger and kept walking.

“Well?” I said to his back.

“I don’t want any more killing, Frank. I’m tired of feeling mad. And I’m tired of feeling sad. And I’m happy that Mom’s back home and I just want things to be okay again.”

“They won’t be okay, not until Mr. Brandt’s in jail and on his way to the electric chair.”

“All right,” Jake said and kept walking.

I hung back because I didn’t want to be with him anymore. I wanted to be alone with all the wretchedness of my mood. So we continued in that way with Jake leading and me grumbling behind until we reached home.

Mother had food on the table, leftover ham for sandwiches and macaroni-pea salad and watermelon slices and potato chips and while we ate I heard the sound of Gus’s motorcycle and I got up and saw him park in the church lot.

“I’m finished eating,” I said.

“But you’ve barely touched your food,” Mother said.

Jake glanced toward the window. “I’m finished too.”

My father eyed us both. “You two have been awfully quiet. What are you up to?”

“Nothing,” I said.

Mother smiled on us and said, “Go outside and have a good time. And if you happen to see Gus, tell him that if he’s hungry he’s welcome to come over and help himself to whatever we have.”

We went to the church basement and heard the shower running in the little bathroom and when the water stopped I called out, “Gus?”

“Just a minute,” he hollered back.

He came out a couple of minutes later with his hair wet and a white towel wrapped around his waist. He grinned and said, “What’s up, guys?”

“We were looking for you,” I said.

“Took a motorcycle ride. Something about the wind in my face that gives me a sense of freedom. Guess I’m still trying to get rid of the feel of that damn jail cell penning me in.” He looked at us both carefully. “This is serious, isn’t it?”

While he stood there naked except for the towel I told him what I thought. He listened and at the end said, “Jesus.” He idly rubbed his bare chest and said again, “Jesus.” Then he said, “Have you told your father?”

“No.”

“I think you should.”

“Does that mean you think I might be right?”

“I hope not, Frank, but it’s worth considering.”

I asked, “Could you be with us when we tell him?”

“Sure. Just let me get dressed.”

We waited upstairs in the sanctuary. Jake sat in the front pew with his hands folded in his lap in the same way he sat when he listened to my father preach. I paced in front of the altar rail with my guts all twisted. The sun was low in the sky and the stained-glass window in the western wall at the back of the chancel was alive with the fire of a dozen colors.

“Frank?”

“What?”

“What if we didn’t tell Dad?”

“Why would we do that?”

“Does it really matter who killed Ariel?”

“Of course it matters. It matters a lot. What’s wrong with you?”