Redemption Mountain (43 page)

“Thank you, Natty, but don't you think, in honor of our guest, we should have a visit with Mr. Daniel's?”

“Later, Woody. You know the rules. Business first. Now take off them pants.”

“Wheehee.”
Woody grinned at Charlie. “If she don't sound like a workin' girl from Cinder Bottom.”

Natty pulled a wooden chair from the kitchenette and opened her case on the bed. She removed a plastic bottle and two rolled-up bandages, then carefully unwrapped the old bandages from Woody's legs, which were painfully swollen at the ankles. Rubbing lotion into her hands, she began to massage Woody's legs, starting with his feet. Her hands were small but strong, and she squeezed his flesh vigorously enough to make Woody wince. After a few minutes of hard work, she stopped, pulled her sweater over her head, and tossed it on the bed.

Under her sweater, Natty wore a plain gray T-shirt. The short sleeves revealed her thin arms, moist now with sweat and bulging with sinew as she strained to knead some life into the large man's legs. Breathing deeply, she ignored the hair that had come loose from her ponytail and hung over her face. She looked over and flashed Charlie a dazzling smile that lit up the dark room and made his heart race. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Natty turned back to work on Woody's right leg, and Charlie couldn't take his eyes off her. He thought about her coming to do this every week, caring for these old men, bringing them a bit of comfort in their last days—not as part of her job but as a friend. It was something she wanted, she needed, to do.

“Why don't you boys tell Charlie a little about coal mining?” Natty suggested, with a quick smile at Charlie.

“Coal minin'…” Woody murmured softly. “Now, that's a life.” The old man looked down at his hands in his lap and nodded. He held his hands up to Charlie and smiled. “This is what a life o' coal minin' gets ya.” The fingers on his massive hands were crooked and gnarled. One pinky bent outward at the knuckle, and the thumb of his left hand was missing. He dropped his hands to his lap with a sigh. “Weren't a bad life, though. Early times was hard, before the union got some changes. Then, when things got better, the Negro miners could only work in the dog holes, where they was still bustin' stone by hand, skimpin' on the shorin', and cheatin' on the count.”

“Don't get all worked up, Woody,” said Natty, as she rewrapped his left leg. “Look at the life of luxury you're living now.”

Woody burst into a huge white smile and laughed. “
Wheehee
, you're right about that, child. Got the good life now. Did I tell you Mabel Willard brought us up a turkey pot pie t'other day?”

“Tell Charlie about the Red Bone mine, Woody. He'd be interested in that.”

“Best mine I ever worked in. 'Course, by that time I wasn't a nigger anymore. I was
Mister Givens
, shift foreman.” The old man laughed. “That's what forty-four years o' workin' underground gets ya. A little bit a respect, after all. Yep, this was a good mine,” he said. “Slope mine safer and easier than the deep mines.”

“A slope mine?” Charlie was unfamiliar with the term.

Mr. Jacks was eager to join the conversation. “Slope mine is how you mine a seam o' coal tha's up in a mountain,” said Mr. Jacks. He stopped to cough and spit a mouthful of black liquid into a can on the floor.

Charlie was curious. “So how do you get the coal out?”

“Why, the oldest way there is. You get up to where the coal is and you tunnel right into it. Called a drift mouth. Then you go in and bring out the coal.”

“Do they still do slope mines?” Charlie asked.

Woody shrugged and shook his head. “Naw, hardly ever see a slope mine anymore, lest it's a small operation. Now they just blast away the mountain, bring in the big shovels, and push it all over the side.”

“Mountaintop removal,” said Charlie.

Woody scowled. “Ain't even minin', usin' dynamite to destroy a whole mountain. No skill, no engineerin' at all in that.”

“Could you still get the coal out with a slope mine?”

Natty looked at Charlie as she took Mr. Jacks's blood pressure.

“Well, o' course you
could
,” said Woody, pulling his pants back on. “Problem is, it costs more—'bout twelve dollars a ton, I always heard. That's a lot a money. 'Course, some of it goes into miners' pockets, which ain't all bad. But a man's labor costs more than dynamite.”

“Twelve dollars a ton,” Charlie repeated. “That is a lot of money,” he said, as he did the math in his head. Thirteen million a year. More than 250 million over the life of the mine. A significant amount, even to a company as large as OntAmex. But he needed to learn more about the feasibility of a slope mine for Redemption Mountain.

The sound of a flip-top snapping open jarred Charlie from his thoughts. Natty handed him a Budweiser and brought one over to Woody. She went back to the refrigerator and returned with one for herself and for Mr. Jacks.

“Okay, boys, workday's over,” she said, sounding tired. She took a long pull on her beer and set it on the kitchen table, then grabbed four small juice glasses from a cupboard, took the bottle of Jack Daniel's from the bag, and filled each glass. Charlie stood to help her, taking the glasses to Mr. Jacks and Woody.

“Why, thank you, Mr. Burden,” said Woody. “Let's have a toast to the Red Bone power plant.”

Natty held up her glass and smiled. “To Charlie's power plant,” she said, and took a sip of the whiskey.

“That's about the best sippin' whiskey there is,” declared Woody, savoring his Jack Daniel's. The room was hushed for a few moments, as everyone enjoyed the warmth of the liquor.

Natty finally broke the silence. “Almost forgot,” she said, reaching into a front pocket of her jeans for the cigars. She handed one to Charlie as she moved over to the table next to Mr. Jacks.

“You think of everything,” said Charlie, sliding the Macanudo from its tube.

Natty cut the tip of her cigar with a small penknife, then handed the knife to Charlie. He clipped off the tip of his and watched Natty light up. He could see that this was not the first cigar she had ever smoked.

“How 'bout this, boys? Cold Bud, a shot of Old No. 7, a good cigar, and great company.” Natty smiled and winked at Woody.

“You said it all there, child,” he said.

Charlie leaned back in his chair and smiled. “This is probably what heaven is like,” he suggested, taking a pull on his cigar. Woody grinned.

For another hour, Charlie basked in the company of Natty and the two old miners as they joked and reminisced about Old Red Bone, the Pocahontas Hotel, and its former residents. They finished the Jack Daniel's and shared the last two Budweisers. Sitting in the dark, musty room, in a hidden corner of Appalachia, Charlie felt as warm and contented as he had in a very long time.

As he and Natty were leaving, Charlie invited Woody and Mr. Jacks to his lobster party the following Saturday. In spite of their trepidation at seeing a lobster for the first time, the old miners were thrilled by the invitation.

*   *   *

T
HE COOL, DAMP
air of the street was refreshing after the closeness of the smoky room. Charlie and Natty walked down Main Street, making a detour around a huge puddle. Natty's voice was amplified in the thick air. “Thanks, Charlie, for doing that. You got no idea how much that means to them. Don't get many visitors.”

“I enjoyed it. Enjoyed watching you help them.”

“Those boys, they ain't got much time left. Kermel ain't got long at all, way he's goin', and Woody, pretty soon they'll start cuttin' his legs off little by little, and he'll have to live in one of them old residence hospitals in Charleston or Beckley.” Natty sighed. “God, I'm going to miss them. Hey,” she added, touching Charlie's arm. “That was real nice, inviting them to your football party. They'll enjoy that.”

“I'm glad they want to come. You know, you're invited, too.”

“Lobsters, huh? Where you getting lobsters around here?”

“My son's shipping them down from Boston. They pack them in ice and send them anywhere you want.”

Natty nodded. “Yeah, that shouldn't cost too much.”

Charlie laughed. “So you'll come?”

“Never had a lobster. Suppose I shouldn't miss the chance.” They walked the last few yards to Natty's car without speaking. A nervous tension surrounded them, made more acute by the stillness of the night. Natty wondered what time it was, but she didn't want to check her watch and risk Charlie thinking that she was in hurry.

Charlie took a deep breath and swallowed back the nervousness in his throat as they walked through the darkness. The street was illuminated solely by an old-fashioned streetlamp on the far side of Main Street. It reminded him of the streetlamps of his youth; his gang would throw stones at them to see who could pop the little bulb and send a shower of sparks to the pavement.

They reached Natty's car and she opened the back door of the Honda. Charlie put her case on the backseat. “Thanks, Natty, for letting me come along,” he said. “It was a very enjoyable evening.”

Natty put her hands in her pockets and leaned back against the Honda. Charlie studied her delicate face in the dim light and wondered if there was another woman anywhere like Natty. Natty spoke first. “Charlie, I been thinking a lot lately about you leaving here—going to China, like you said.” She gazed up into the darkness across the street, as if she needed to avoid his eyes. “Gives me a real empty feeling,” she nearly whispered.

“I've got some time left here, Natty. Won't be before—”

“Charlie,” she said, turning back to look into his face, “what I'm saying here is … if you were to ask me to go upstairs, for a beer or something, well, I'd probably go.”

Charlie swallowed hard. He needed to get this right, because he knew that Natty had made a decision that was probably as difficult as any choice she'd ever made. But he needed to say no to her, to deny himself what he'd been aching for all evening, aching for since he'd come to Red Bone. He took a deep breath, stalling for time.

“Nat, we can't do that,” he said finally. “Not tonight.”

Natty pressed a little harder against the side of the car and blew out a deep breath. “Well, that's a relief,” she said. “I ain't too sure I got clean underwear on, anyway.”

They both laughed. They seemed to laugh a lot, thought Charlie, as he smiled at her. He reached out and gently pushed back the shock of hair that fell over her eye. “Earlier this week, Nat,” he continued, “I had to lie to my wife about you, and I didn't like how that felt.”

Natty squinted up at him. “What'd you have to lie about, Charlie?”

“Wasn't about you, directly. It was about why I couldn't go up to Vermont with her this weekend. I made up some stuff about my broken nose and too much work, but it was about you. You're the reason I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay here and see you, do what we did tonight, and go to the soccer game tomorrow. To see the kids and Pie.”

Natty looked down at her feet.

Charlie knew that he was embarrassing her, but he had to continue. “And I wanted to be alone with you,” he said, “and hear you say the words you just said.”

Natty sniffed. “So,
what,
Charlie?”

“Nat, last winter my wife had an affair—an old friend of hers. Didn't last long, couple of months, I guess, but I found out about it from someone else. I can still remember how that felt … when I found out.” He winced at the memory. “I don't know which felt worse, her having an affair or having someone else tell me.”

“I know what that feels like, Charlie,” Natty whispered.

“I can't do that to her,” he continued. “Whatever happens with us, I want it to be different. I need to tell Ellen how I feel … before anything happens.”

Natty wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “Jeez, Charlie, you goin' for husband of the year or something?”

Charlie laughed. “Hardly,” he said, looking away. “Nothing like that.”

“What are you going to tell her, Charlie?”

“I don't know. I haven't gotten that far.”

They both chuckled. He looked across the street and paused for a few seconds. “First I'm going to tell her that I love her,” he said. “We've been married for twenty-six years, and for twenty-five of those years, Ellen was as good a wife and mother as a woman can be. One mistake, one … experiment, doesn't wipe all that out.” He squinted into the streetlight.

“Plus, it wasn't all her fault. You remember how you told me it wasn't all Buck's fault that day he hit you?” She nodded briefly. “Well, Ellen's thing, that wasn't all her fault, either.”

“What'd you do, Charlie?”

He saw the curious look on Natty's face. “I changed,” he said. “We had a nice life together. Then, after the kids left and my job changed, then I changed. We were living the life that Ellen always wanted, and I realized I didn't really want that life. So I made some decisions without thinking about her. I abandoned her. Not physically, but socially and emotionally, and I pretended that it shouldn't matter. It's hard to explain.”

Charlie paused for a moment. “I also have to tell her that I met this woman in West Virginia. A remarkable woman. The nicest, kindest … funniest, most selfless person I've ever met.” He looked up from his feet and met Natty's eyes. “A woman who has no idea of how beautiful she is or how special she is.”

Natty turned away to hide her face.

“I probably won't tell Ellen about how my palms get sweaty and my heart beats like a drum every time I see this woman—that wouldn't be fair—but I have to tell her that I can't get her out of my head and I'm not sure I ever will, and that, when the time comes to leave West Virginia, to leave her … I'm not sure I'll be able to do that.”