Chris Whitaker - We Begin at the End

He cried quietly. She watched him huddled, chin to chest, knees up and arms around them. She knew about the things that shaped people, memories and events that print your soul. She needed Robin to be alright, more than anything she needed that. He saw the shrink each week, though no longer told her what was discussed. I don’t have to tell. It’s private.

“I know you’re an outlaw, but I’m not. I just want to be a kid.”

She scooted nearer, her jeans in the dirt. “You’re a prince, remember. Mom said that and she was right.”

“Just leave me alone.”

She made to ruffle his hair but he moved from her hand, stood and then ran for the house. For a moment she thought she might cry too, just let the past months and years rot her into the dirt, wash her skin from her bones and her blood to the water.

She heard the rumble of a truck, tensed for a moment, then saw it was Dolly. Dolly left the high-beams cutting a sweep of light over the water.

“Mind if I sit a while?” Dolly stopped by now and then. She wore a cream dress, heels with red soles, the kind of woman that did not own work clothes.

“I didn’t see you at church last week,” Duchess said.

“Bill’s been sick.” Her cigarette glowed as she held it away.

“Oh.”

“He’s been sick a long time. Some days are better than others.”

“Right.”

“I missed seeing that dress.”

Duchess had cut a new swath to show off her belly button.

“You can come by you know. If you ever want some female company. I don’t have siblings, no mother, grew up fending for myself.”

“And you’re alright.”

“I’m good at fronting, Duchess. I’m a fucking master. Anyway, Hal knows where to find me if you want to stop by.”

“I try not to talk to Hal all that much.”

“And why’s that?”

“Would I have met him … I mean, if my mother …”

The water slopped gently. “He made the drive.”

Duchess turned.

“To Cape Haven.” Dolly spoke quietly, as if betraying a trust. “I just, I thought you should know.”

“When?”

“Every year. Same day. June 2nd.”

“My birthday.”

A smile, small though it was. “He’d take a gift. He used to ask me to help him pick out something you’d like. And then, when Robin was born. He’d make that drive twice each year. And this is a man that never takes a day off, can’t afford to.”

Duchess glanced back at the old farmhouse. “How’d he know? Star said she never spoke to him.”

“Oh, she didn’t. Stubborn one, your mother. Sounds like someone else I know.”

“Save it.”

“He still had someone there. Called him now and then. A policeman.”

Duchess closed her eyes. Walk. “I never got them.”

“Oh, I know. He’d come back with them. Same each time. Didn’t stop him trying, though. He wouldn’t see you without your mother’s blessing.”

“She blamed him. For everything.”

Dolly laid a hand on her shoulder.

Duchess knew about her grandmother, her spirit so free Duchess still carried the Day before Radley. Star had been seventeen. She’d tried college, came home early and saw the note right off.

I love you. I’m sorry. Call your father and don’t go into the kitchen.

Star never was one to follow rules.

Dolly stood. “I brought a pie for Robin. Two-mile-high mud. I reckon he’ll be disappointed it’s not real mud.”

Duchess followed her to the truck and took the pie from her.

“Your grandfather is old.”

“I know.”

“You ever made a mistake, Duchess?”

Duchess thought of the Cape, the fire, the fights, scratching Brandon’s Mustang. “Never.”

Dolly grabbed her then, held her. She smelled of sweet perfume. Duchess tried to break it but Dolly held her tight. “Don’t lose yourself, Duchess.”

After, she watched the truck fade.

First rain fell on her shoulders.

It turned on her fast, so heavy it kicked up the mud around and splashed her legs. She stood there and tilted her head toward the sky, the opening heaven not enough to cleanse her.

She found Hal on the porch. He held a towel. She let him wrap her and walked to the seat, took the cocoa he handed, the mug steaming away her protest. The rain fell so loud it drowned the scream of that voice that told her to kick and kick.

“Robin is sleeping. He didn’t mean what he said.” Hal sat beside her, far enough up the bench.

“He did.”

“I saw you in the field. Big Sky is beautiful, even in the rain.”

“Dolly brought a pie.” Duchess handed him the dish by her foot.

Inside the phone rang. It did not ring often. She watched the old man head in and speak a few words that did not carry.

“Who was it?”

“Walker.”

“Did he mention Darke?”

“He was just checking in.”

“Darke will come.”

“There’s no way of knowing that.”

“You don’t get it.”

“Tell me.”

“He promised he’d come for me.”

“Why?”

She said nothing.

They sat and drank and breathed the earthy rain.

“I dream more here. I don’t want to.”

He turned to her.

“And my dreams are fucked up.”

He did not flinch at the curse. “Tell me.”

“No.”

“Tell the gray. She can hear you from here. Just talk, that’s all, Duchess.”

“That’s all,” she said quietly.

He closed his eyes to the rain. She saw him then, a life of paid mistake, the lure of second chance, the plaintive ask of redemption.

“I rise above the farmhouse and see slates and green, the gutter of leaves that remind me of fall and seasons that change no matter who dies. I am high in the sky and Montana is a footnote, patchwork fields stitched by tractors like ants, people that bob like they are drowning in ordinary.

“The ocean is endless but I see its end. I see the earth, the curves are tomorrow but it won’t turn. I see clouds that hold sky, a sunset in the desert and a rise over metals. Before long I am darkness and stars and their moons. The world is a nothing so small I raise a finger and hide it. I am the God I don’t believe in. I am big enough to stop the bad men.”

She would not cry.

Hal watched her carefully. “If he comes I will stop him.”

“Why?”

“To protect you and Robin.”

“I can protect us.”

“You’re still a child.”

“I’m not a child. I am an outlaw.”

He placed an arm around her and she melted into the warmth, hating herself as she did.

22

THE APARTMENT WAS ABOVE A Five & Dime, one window punched out and replaced with a board, the others grimy enough Walk couldn’t imagine much light made it through. Beside the door was a vent, the smell of Chinese food pumped out, despite the early hour.

The girl’s name was Julieta Fuentes and she’d worked at various clubs as a dancer. Martha had left several messages on her cell but gave Walk the address when the girl didn’t get back. It wasn’t on Walk, he didn’t press, but Julieta had trouble with an ex and Martha was worried about her.

He found the door open and climbed the narrow staircase. Mold crept its way from the mottled ceiling.

He knocked on the door, waited a little then hammered it.

Julieta was small, dark hair, wide hips, the kind of beautiful that almost saw him take a step back.

She glared. He flashed his badge and she glared some more.

“My son is sleeping inside.”

“Sorry. I got your details from Martha May.”

Julieta softened then, just enough to take a step out into the narrow hallway and pull the door to behind her.

She pressed close to Walk. He tried to move back, dropped down a step but found his eyes level with her bust. He coughed once, turned a shade of red that saw her glare return.