The Burning
Noah opened the door and saw Black standing there, grocery bag in his hand, the cruiser parked in the driveway. It was early and for a minute he thought he might’ve been in shit but Black smiled and asked if he could come in.
Noah watched Black take in the kitchen; the torn linoleum and the broke cabinet doors.
“Is your grandmother home?”
“Sleepin’,” Noah said. “She sleeps a lot now.”
Black glanced over at the television, at the Grace square and the flamelight vigil. He shook his head like he still couldn’t believe it.
“How’s Raine doin’?”
“She’s scared,” Noah said. “But she acts like she ain’t.”
“Right.”
“You okay, Black?”
“Yeah. Tired, maybe, got a headache most days. You can’t come in for a while, to the station. I know you worked somethin’ out with Trix, ’cause you go on beggin’ each year, and we like havin’ you round, but with the square the way it is . . . I can’t have you in there. It ain’t safe.”
“Okay.”
“I ain’t sure when Joe will come, and what he’ll come with.”
“I get it, it’s all right.”
Black nodded. “You headin’ to church this mornin’?”
“Yeah. It’ll be mad down there. They got cameras on Jackson Ranch Road now.”
“Heard you and Purv were makin’ money from the visitors.”
Noah frowned.
“Some guy Purv took cash off, supposed to fetch Merle but didn’t bother. Guy came to us lookin’ for someone to help him, like we ain’t got nothin’ better to do. You tell Purv to quit stealin’ from folk.”
“He weren’t really. We went down to Merle’s but he was gettin’ into it with Tommy Ryan.”
“That right?” Black said.
“Purv reckoned it was over gambling debts.”
“Probably,” Black said. He stood for a minute like his mind was someplace else. “You had breakfast yet?”
Noah shook his head.
“I brought eggs.” Black walked over to the cabinets and flipped through them till he found a saucepan.
Black made scrambled eggs and they sat and ate together.
“Can I ask you a question, Black?”
“You can ask.”
“Have you ever been in a shoot-out?”
Black dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “I was a state trooper, with your father.”
Noah nodded ’cause he knew that. He had clippings and photos, all that was written.
“A guy named Rick Fallon and his two boys held up the Sun Trust. We chased him for six miles before he dumped his truck and tailed it into the cornfields. I couldn’t see shit, just kept hearin’ bullets whistle by my ear.”
“Did you shoot back at ’em?”
“I just aimed for the noise.”
“Did you win?”
“I ain’t sure there’s winners in a gunfight. Maybe degrees of loss. Your father put Rick down in the end. He was a deadly shot.”
Noah nodded, eyes a little wide.
“I got his boys. One of ’em was fifteen.”
“Oh.”
“You look like him . . . your father.”
Noah smiled ’cause he couldn’t check it. “He was tough, right?”
“He was.”
Noah cleared his throat. “You reckon he would’ve liked me . . . I mean, the way I turned out? ’Cause sometimes I don’t feel it.”
“Feel what?”
“I just . . . we got cop blood in our family, right? I ain’t even sure what I’m sayin’.”
“He would’ve been proud, Noah.”
“Yeah?”
Black nodded, and turned back to his plate.
*
Jackson Ranch Road was fit to burst. Cars were parked tight on the grass verge, people walked heel to toe toward St. Luke’s. The visitors glanced up, the locals stared hard at them. Trouble rode close to the surface, threatening to rip through every time a Maidenville SUV double-parked in the square, and every time a Grace local couldn’t find a seat in Mae’s.
There’d been a couple fights, stopped before they got bad but the square was tight with folk now.
Noah saw a bank of cameras by the gate, and shiny reporters facing them. He’d seen them on television that morning, working religion and the devil and the Briar girls, trying to make out everyone in Grace was either crazy or headed that way. He overheard a sharp-suited guy with a microphone saying that folk were coming to ask God’s forgiveness, to ask him to lift the darkness from above and bless them with sunlight. There were cheers as Dale Crashaw bowled straight into him and sent his mic to the floor. The suit looked startled, called out to Milk who ignored him, a slight smile on his face.
Noah slipped outta the line, cut across the gravestones, then into the church ahead of a couple of ladies he didn’t recognize.
He saw Purv sitting near the back with Rusty and one of his boys, Noah couldn’t remember which. The church was lit up like Christmas, extra candles and lights and new faces staring up at the arches like they were viewing God’s own handiwork.
Noah liked Christmas since he was a kid, even found dialysis easier in the run-up too. They decorated a tree at Mayland, Missy dressed as an elf, Purv wrapped aluminium foil around his chair ’cause he reckoned it looked festive. When he was young they’d arranged for Santa to come see him. He was struck dumb and could barely get his words out when asked what he wanted for Christmas. Purv had helped, though blurting out “a functioning kidney” had earned him a clip from Missy.
“Lucky you got a seat,” Noah said, settling in beside Purv.
“I got here early since you didn’t show.”
“Sorry, late night.”
Purv turned to face him, his lone eyebrow raised at one end.
Noah shook his head. “Long story.”
“What you two yapping about?” Rusty said.
“Noah had a date with Raine Ryan.”
“Shit, son,” Rusty said, shaking his head. “Don’t call on me when her daddy finds out.”
“Joe knows and he was all right.”
“Could be he thought you were a lady in that jacket you were wearin’ in the square last night,” Rusty said.
A hush fell when Bobby stood at the front. There were folk standing three deep against every wall, as well as the couple hundred jammed onto the benches.
Again Bobby asked them to pray for Summer, for her to come home safe. Again he asked them to pray for Raine, and Ava and Joe, to give them hope and strength through this difficult time. He spoke loud and his voice carried and Noah closed his eyes real tight.
Bobby didn’t mention the cloud and Noah was glad of that. It weren’t nothing to pray about, it weren’t real like Summer and the Briar girls. He glanced up when he heard the door open. He saw Ava and heard whispers, then he saw Bobby smile at her and motion to a spot near the front where Savannah kept a place.
Ava kept her head up, dressed nice but Noah saw the change. If the past month had been tough on Raine, it’d ruined her momma.
*
Long after the service, when the church was quiet ’cept for the hollow echo of prayer, Bobby stood alone and looked at the bench where Summer would sit. And then he heard steps and he saw Raine ghost into the building. A vision of her sister, she was a sore sight, and Bobby drew a long breath.
She reached a hand up and smoothed her hair, angling her head so he wouldn’t notice the graze by her eye.
“Why do people kneel when they pray?” she said.
“There’s a passage in the Bible, O come, let us worship and bow down, let us kneel before the Lord our maker.”
She took a step forward. “I’m worried Summer ain’t comin’ back,” she said, bold, like it was a challenge. “I wore her dress last night. Momma bought it for her to wear that time she played cello here in the church. You remember that day, Pastor Bobby?”
“Sure, I remember that day. I reckon the whole town does. It’s part of Grace folklore now.”
“Momma’s real grateful, how the two of you look out for Summer, ’cause with all the Bird and that she said it’s hard to find folk you can trust.”
Bobby fell silent a long time.
“I ain’t really spoke to Savannah. She looks –”
Bobby smiled. “She’s from Maidenville, what’d you expect.”
Raine nodded.
“I’ll tell you somethin’ about Savannah,” he said, walking over. “She plays the cello. I mean, you know that, but she used to play concerts, with an orchestra. It was her life, music. And then we had a son, and he died.” He cleared his throat. “She didn’t quit for good, she was just sad. So she didn’t feel much like playing. And then Summer came along and Savannah started teaching her, and when I heard that music I realized how much I’d missed it, and how quiet our house was without it.”
He turned and started to leave her.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
She pointed to the rear of the church, to the side where the font sat. “What’s that little door for?”
“Do you want to see?”
*
She looked down first and saw Grace lit below her, the streetlights bright despite the early hour and the summer sun that held the horizon.
“On a clear day you can see for miles,” Bobby said. “That’s Hell’s Gate over there.” He pointed.
She looked at the forest, part dark but all so wild and endless and she thought of what might be in there.
“Can I bring Summer up here sometime?”
“Yeah.”
She watched the bustle of the square and the lights from Mae’s and the news vans.
“How come those reporters are stickin’ around?” she said.
“All this talk about God, I guess. Have you been up to Hallow Road?”
She nodded.
“The dark wall. I’ve never seen anythin’ like it. If it happened someplace else I might be joinin’ people in goin’ to see it.”
She brought a finger to her mouth and bit a nail. “Can I ask you somethin’ about Samson?”
“Okay.”
“I don’t even know if you’ll tell me what you think ’cause most just reckon I can’t handle nothin’, like I’m some kid that don’t know how the world works and don’t know what men think when they see a pretty girl.”
“I don’t think Samson did anythin’ to your sister, Raine.”
“But you ain’t sure.”
“Samson walked Summer home when it was raining, which might’ve been a simple act of kindness. And the rest we have to guess. Or we don’t. We take the facts that are there in front of us and that’s what we do. So when you go home tonight, and you’re lyin’ in bed, try and remember the facts. It’s Black’s job to worry about the rest, not yours, Raine. You just need to look after yourself. And try not to worry about your parents, because that’s not your job either.”
“It’s easy for you to say all that –”
“I know.”
She leaned over and she could see gravestones, and lanterns on the gate. She rubbed her eyes ’cause she was so tired she couldn’t barely stand it.
“It’ll all be okay, Raine. I know it don’t feel like it now, but it will.”
“How do you know that?” she countered, staring hard at him.
“It has to be. Summer is okay. I believe it.”
“Belief ain’t enough, Pastor Bobby.”
He smiled like he was sad, like she’d just told him a truth too cruel.
“I heard you’re out there lookin’.”
“I heard you are too.”
“You need to be careful, Raine.”
“I got Noah with me. And Purv.”
She thought of Noah and the lights blurred. She turned her head away from Bobby and wiped her tears and he acted like he didn’t see, which she was grateful for. She hadn’t never cried so much and she felt weaker for it.
Noah had sat with her a long time, till she felt better. She said things to him, horrible things about his place in her world.
He’d carried her home, along the Red, her face against his chest, his hand soft on the back of her knees. He didn’t ask nothing and that was something big. He wore cologne, no doubt Purv had stole it for him. He’d made an effort, booked a table at Clyde’s and worked up the courage to ask her out. He’d chosen his clothes, albeit women’s, combed his hair and fought his nerves. For her.
“How’s Noah doin’?” he said.
She shrugged. “I used to reckon he was retarded. Maybe I still think that.”
He smiled. “He has it tough, with the dialysis.”
“What?”
“Dialysis.”
She stared at him.
“Noah is sick, Raine. I’m sorry, I thought you knew.”
She swallowed and her throat hurt. She reached up and rubbed her head and she saw her hand was shaking.
“What does . . . he ain’t sick. He can’t be.”
Bobby smiled sad.
“I mean, he’ll get better, right? They do transplants, that’s what they do when kids get sick like that.”
“He’s had three already, Raine. They won’t do another.”
She nodded, and she felt hot, and the sweat was stinging her eyes as she ran from the roof down the winding stairs.
She burst from the old church and ran so fast and hard her chest was burning by the time she made it to his house. She hammered the door and Noah’s grandmother answered, her eyes were layered with confusion but she knew where her grandson was, ’cause he didn’t ever miss D-day, not since he was a little child.
*
Raine rode the Transit bus alone, from the lights of the square past the bustle on Hallow Road. She closed her eyes as she crossed the border, and she opened them to dying day. She sat above the wheel and the bumps rattled her tired bones.
When she got to Mayland she stood awhile and watched the nurses and the doctors as they moved in groups and smiled and laughed.
She walked into the bright reception and looked at the map of the hospital and saw where she needed to get. But then she walked back out and followed the flowers a long way till she came to the window.
Night fell and stars rose and she stood there for hours, watching Noah sitting in his chair in front of the television, tubes in his arm and a police badge hanging from a string around his neck.
*
The reporters beat Black to the scene, though a couple of engines were in place and the fire chief was doing his best to keep them back.
Trix had taken the call, thought it was another hoax, but radioed Rusty who was nearest. Rusty had been over in Windale, talking to the pastor at the New Hope Baptist Church. The guy was old and sour but said he’d be vigilant and tell parents not to let their girls outta their sight.
“Shit,” Black said, as he climbed out. Rusty stood beside the cruiser, close enough to feel the heat. The house belonged to Radley Coke, though he’d moved to a nursing home several years back.
The flames glowed bright, the smoke rose toward the cloud, and cameras fired off shots of it all.
“They’ll put it out quick,” Rusty said, hooking his thumbs into his waistband and rocking back and forth on his heels like he was enjoying the show.
“Stop that,” Black said.
“Who do you reckon?” Rusty said.
“Crazies. Rollers. Scaring the devil away. Could be the other side though, welcoming him to town.”
“Led by the Circle of Black Knights?”
“Yeah, them, or mescaline.”
Rusty laughed.
They spun when they heard a high whine and saw Pastor Lumen scooting toward them.
“How the fuck did he get here?” Black said.
“Deely White’s truck is over there,” Rusty said.
Pastor Lumen parked in front of the cameras, reached for one of his medals, and held it out in front.
“The lake of fire. Unquenchable,” Pastor Lumen said, as cameras trained on him.
They got money shots of the crippled preacher under the dark sky, the fire framing him in hellish red. Photographs that’d run on all the front pages come morning.
Black turned back to the house.
They heard Pastor Lumen spewing, so took a step nearer the heat. The flames licked and crackled.
“Hell of a summer we’re havin’,” Rusty said.
Black heard the radio and ran over to the cruiser.
“What is it?” Rusty said.
“Another fire. One of the Dennisons’ barns.”
Black started the engine.
“Shit,” Rusty said. “Grace is burnin’.”