John Hart - Down River

“Nobody likes to believe in rich man’s justice, but that’s what people see. They want payback.”

“It won’t happen like that.”

“I’m convenient,” I said.

She shifted beside me, the hard curve of her thigh pressing against mine. This time she did not contradict me. Her words slipped into the air between us. “Did you think about me?” she asked. “All those years in New York.”

I considered, and then gave her the painful truth. “At first, all of the time. Then I tried not to. It took a while. But it’s like I said, I buried this place. You had to go, too. It was the only way.”

“You should have called. Maybe I’d changed my mind about coming with you.” She rolled onto her side. The covers slipped off her shoulder.

“Robin…”

“Do you still love me?”

“Yes.”

“Then love me.”

She laid her lips against my neck, reached down, and I felt the light touch of her hand. We started slowly, in the shadow of those words, and the looming gray of a tentative dawn.

At ten o’clock I took Robin back to her car. Her fingers squeezed mine and she pressed against me. She looked strangely vulnerable and I knew that she probably was.

“I don’t take half measures, Adam. Not on things that matter. Not on us. Not on you.” She laid her palm on my face. “I’m on your side. Whatever it takes.”

“I can’t commit to Rowan County, Robin. Not until I see where things go with my father. I need things to be right with him. I don’t know how to get there.”

She kissed me. “You can consider my choice made. Whatever it takes.”

“I’ll be at the hospital,” I said, and watched her go.

I found Miriam in the waiting area. She was alone, eyes closed. Her clothing rustled as she made small movements. When I sat, she grew still and showed me half of her face.

“You okay?” I asked.

She nodded. “How about you?”

Miriam had grown into a beautiful woman, but you had to look carefully to see it. She seemed smaller, in all things, than she actually was. But I understood. Life, for some, was just hard.

“I’m glad to see you,” I told her. She nodded, her hair swinging forward. “You really doing okay?” I asked.

“Don’t I look it?”

“You look fine. Is someone with Grace?”

“Dad. He thought that it might help Grace to have me here. I’ve been in once already.”

“How’s she doing?” I asked.

“She screams in her sleep.”

“How about Dad?”

“He’s like a woman.”

I didn’t know what to say to that.

“Look, Adam, I’m sorry that we haven’t talked much. I’ve wanted to. It’s just been…”

“Yeah. Weird. You told me.”

She smoothed her hands across her thighs, pushed herself straighter, so that her back was bent into less of a question mark. “I am happy to see you again. George told me that you thought maybe I wasn’t. I’d hate for you to think that.”

“He’s grown into a good man,” I said.

She lifted her shoulders, gestured down the hall with a bitten fingernail. “Do you think she’ll be okay?”

“I hope so.”

“Me, too.”

I put my hand on her forearm and she twitched, jerked it away, then looked sheepish.

“Sorry,” she said. “You startled me.”

“You okay?” I asked.

“This family is coming apart.” She closed her eyes. “There’re cracks all over the place.”

When my father came out of Grace’s room, he moved slowly and nodded at me as he sat. “Hello, Adam.” He turned to Miriam. “Will you sit with her for a while?”

She looked at me once and then disappeared down the hall. My father patted me on the knee.

“Thanks for being here.”

“Where’s Dolf?”

“We’re taking turns.”

We settled back against the wall. I gestured after Miriam. “Is she doing all right? She seems…”

“Dark.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Dark. She’s been like that since Gray Wilson’s death. He was a bit older, a bit rougher, but they were close, ran with the same group in school. When you were tried for his murder the group cut her off. She’s been very alone since then. She couldn’t handle college. Came back from Harvard after one semester. But that just made it worse. Grace tried once or twice to bring her out of it. Hell, we all did. She’s just…”

“Dark.”

“And sad.”

A nurse passed us. A tall man rolled a gurney down the hall.

“Do you have any idea who might have killed Danny?” I asked.

“No clue.”

“He was heavy into gambling. His father is a drug dealer.”

“I don’t like seeing it that way.”

“Who is Sarah Yates?” I asked.

He went rigid, and the words came slowly. “Why do you ask me that?”

“Grace was talking to her shortly before the attack. They looked like they might be friends.”

He relaxed marginally. “Friends? I doubt it.”

“Do you know her?”

“No one really knows Sarah Yates.”

“That’s pretty vague.”

“She lives on the fringe. Always has. She can be warm one day, mean as a snake the next. As far as I can tell, there’s not much that Sarah Yates cares about.”

“So, you do know her.”

He faced me, lips tight. “I know that I don’t want to talk about her.”

“She says that I was a lovely boy.” My father turned in his seat, and his shoulders squared up. “Do I know her?” I asked.

“You should stay away from her.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you should stay the hell away from her.”

I went shopping for Grace. I bought flowers, books, and magazines. None of it felt right; it was all guesswork, and I had to face the truth of it once again. I didn’t know her anymore. I felt restless, and drove around town for a bit. Every road was layered in memory, so textured that the past was physical. That was another thing about home.

I was almost back to the hospital when my cell phone rang. It was Robin. “Where are you?” I asked.

“Look in your mirror.” I looked and saw her car twenty feet behind me. “Pull over. We need to talk.”

I hung a left into a quiet, residential area that had been developed in the early seventies. The houses were low with small windows. The yards were neat and trim. Two blocks down, kids rode bikes. Someone in yellow pants kicked a red ball. Robin was all business.

“I spent the morning making very quiet inquiries,” she said. “Reached out to people I trust. Asked them to keep me in the loop. I just got a call from a detective friend who was about to testify in Superior Court when Grantham showed up and spoke to the judge.”

“Judge Rathburn?”

“Yeah. Rathburn called a recess and took Grantham into chambers. Ten minutes later he canceled court for the day.” She paused.

“You know why, don’t you?”

“This came from one of the clerks. It’s solid. Grantham presented the judge with an affidavit in support of an arrest warrant. The judge signed off on it.”

“A warrant for whose arrest?”

“Unknown, but given what we know, I suspect that it has your name on it.” Distant laughter rolled over us, the high squeal of children at play. Robin’s eyes were filled up with worry. “I thought that you might want to call that lawyer.”

Grace was sleeping when I returned to the hospital. Miriam had left and my father was in the room with his eyes closed. I put the flowers by the bed and the magazines on a table. I stood for a long minute, looking at Grace and thinking of what Robin had told me. Things were coming to a head. “You okay?” my father asked. His eyes were red from sleep. I pointed at the door, and when I left, my father followed me out. He scrubbed a hand over his face.