Redemption Mountain (54 page)

Charlie put another twenty on top of hers. “Just in case.”

Natty rolled her eyes. “Be a tough town for an alcoholic.” Their drinks arrived and Natty kicked off her shoes as she picked up her Jack Daniel's. “Okay, who should we toast?”

Charlie held up his glass. “To Woody and Mr. Jacks,” he suggested.

Natty nodded. “To Woody and Mr. Jacks,” she said, “sittin' up in their room in the Pocahontas Hotel.” Natty looked out toward the street, her eyes unfocused. “Boy, that seems like a long way away from here, doesn't it?”

“It is,” said Charlie. They drank slowly and talked for a long time. They ordered another round and soon forgot about the Marriott Marquis. They talked about their children, the upcoming soccer tournament, Redemption Mountain and the DeWitts and where they would go after the eminent-domain hearing. A third round arrived, and they talked about the library and the new soccer field. Then Charlie told her about China.

Natty nodded absently, mellowed by the liquor. “You going to go?” Charlie drained the rest of his beer and looked at his watch. He stood up, his legs pressed against Natty's.

“I don't know,” he said. “It depends.”

“On what?”

He smiled down at her. “On how some things go in West Virginia. Now it's time to get to the restaurant.
You
need to eat.”

“I need to pee.” Natty stood up and was forced against Charlie by the crush of the crowd. He was an instant away from leaning over and kissing her on the mouth, but he hesitated.
Their first real kiss shouldn't be here in this crowded bar.
Charlie backed up to give her some room, and Natty looked down to find her shoes.

*   *   *

T
HE RESTAURANT WAS
perfect, with subdued lighting and a candlelit table by a window overlooking the busy sidewalk. Natty smiled her approval. Charlie ordered a bottle of Chardonnay and told the waiter they were in no hurry.

The wine arrived and Charlie proposed another toast. “To the Bones and winning the tournament in Charleston.”

Natty held up her glass. “To the Bones, the best-dressed soccer team in West Virginia.” They clinked glasses just as something outside caught Natty's eye and made her smile. “Oh, God, Charlie, look.”

Charlie twisted around, and there on the sidewalk, examining the restaurant's menu box, were the unmistakable figures of Mabel, Ada, and Janice, looking weary and cold.

Charlie grinned as he put his napkin on the table. “I'll go get them,” he said. Charlie reached into his pocket for his money clip, peeled off a twenty, and pressed it into the waiter's hand. “We're going to need a bigger table,” he explained.

“Not a problem, sir,” replied the waiter.

After several minutes on the sidewalk, cajoling, begging, and finally threatening the three ladies, Charlie was able to coax them into the restaurant. Like the hostess of the table, Natty hugged each of the women and tried her best to make them relax and feel welcome. Charlie hung up their coats and came back to find himself sitting across the round table from Natty.

Mabel put her hand over Natty's on the table and grinned as she looked back and forth between Natty and Charlie. “What about our little girl here, Charlie? Cleans up pretty good when she wants to, huh?” The other women giggled.

“C'mon, Mabel,” Natty protested.

The women had been wandering around for an hour and a half, trying to find someplace reasonable to have dinner. Charlie convinced them that OntAmex would foot the bill for dinner, which made them more comfortable than they would've been with the truth. After more cajoling, they relented and had a cocktail, with the understanding that nobody would be ordering that
fifty-two-dollar steak
they saw on the menu!

With the drinks and Natty and Charlie's hospitality, the women gradually relaxed and warmed up to the occasion. Soon, Mabel took center stage and had everyone at the table (and a few neighboring tables) in stitches with her observations about New York, New Yorkers, and New York prices.

They had another round of drinks, and Charlie ordered more wine for the table. The women were clearly enjoying themselves now. And, in spite of the change of plans, Charlie and Natty were enjoying themselves, too. Occasionally he would catch Natty's eye. She would smile reassuringly. When the ladies refused appetizers, Charlie ordered a selection for the table to share, and Natty confiscated the menus to keep the others from focusing on the prices.

For the next two hours, they enjoyed a wonderful meal, one of the best they'd ever had. Mabel eventually gave way to Ada, who fascinated them with her stories of growing up in the coalfields of Appalachia in the thirties and forties. Even Janice Lowe, as shy as her daughter, Emma, joined the conversation when it got around to the Bones and their star player. “All that girl talks about now is that boy Gabe from Welch,” said Janice in her timid voice. “And he comes over and they go to kickin' soccer balls to each other for hours, they do!”

Natty laughed. “I think our little Emma's in love!”

“She sure is happy about
somethin',
” said Janice.

They had coffee and shared some decadently rich desserts, and before they knew it, it was eleven o'clock.

“You kids don't have to worry 'bout us,” Mabel said as they left the restaurant. “We can find our ways to the hotel just fine.”

“We'll take you there, Mabel,” said Charlie. “Want to make sure you ladies don't sneak off and go out nightclubbing.” The women shrieked at the suggestion.

“Was a nice dinner, Charlie,” said Natty as she and Charlie fell behind the three women.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “it was a real nice dinner. I think they enjoyed themselves. I did, too.” Charlie thought about Natty and the ladies in front of them—poor women from Appalachia—and tried to remember when he'd enjoyed a meal more. Certainly not the dinners with Ellen and their friends at one of New York or Westchester's finer restaurants, with the conversation devoted exclusively to the art of living well.
Natty, Mabel, Ada, and Janice were people without egos or petty jealousies, without greed or pretensions, with no agendas or ambitions beyond being decent people. God, it was nice to be around them.

It was eleven-thirty when they reached the hotel. The women thanked Charlie, hugged Natty, and quickly filed through the revolving door. A steady stream of pedestrian traffic entered and exited the hotel, even this late. Charlie looked at Natty and smiled. “Time for you to get to bed, little girl.”

Natty nodded. “Yeah, I guess that's it for me.”

Charlie kissed her lightly on the forehead, then backed away. “Good night, Nat. See you in the morning.”

Natty folded her arms across her chest and squinted up at him. “You know, I get tired of thankin' you for everything all the time, Charlie, so I'm going to stop doin' that. But the ladies had a good time tonight, one they'll be talking about for years. Me, too.”

Charlie watched her for a few seconds, not wanting to leave. “Go to sleep, Nat. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Why don't you take a cab, Charlie?” she suggested.

“No, I'm going to walk and enjoy the air. It's not far,” he said.

She waved to him and tried to smile.

A group of German schoolgirls crowded into the lobby while Natty waited for the elevator. She had to squeeze into a car that seemed to stop at every floor on the way up to twelve. She pulled out her card key as she padded down the carpeted hallway.

Standing in front of her door, Natty reached out to put the key in the slot, but she stopped. She looked down at the card and then up at the door, the door to safety and security.
The door to her same old life. The door back to Red Bone and Buck and hoping to make it through another night without a beating or an old, sick person dying on her. The door back to the same crummy trailer for her children—hillbilly kids with no future and no way out of the mountains. If she went through the door, then the night would be over, and when would she ever get another chance to be with Charlie? Shit, Charlie! What happened?
She squeezed her cheeks up tight to stop the tears, but they came anyway. Then she turned and ran down the hallway.

A man in the elevator asked her if she was okay, and she nodded and wiped away the tears. She worked her way through the crowd and out onto Eighth Avenue. Several empty cabs sat at the curb, but she didn't have any money left, and she didn't know the address, anyway. She ran back to the corner of 45th Street and began to get her bearings. She passed the hotel entrance and then the theaters, relieved to find Broadway. She couldn't believe the amount of traffic and the number of pedestrians still crowding the sidewalks. The cabs were bumper to bumper and the crowd a little more threatening than it was earlier.

She heard a few catcalls behind her—“Hey, baby, hey, mama, where you goin' in such a hurry?”—as she struggled to find the route she and Charlie had taken in the morning, which seemed like days ago. She should have paid attention to the route the limousine took to the salon, but all she'd looked at was the inside of the car.

She knew she had to cross Broadway, then go south for a few blocks, but how many? She had no idea.
And how would she recognize Charlie's building if she even found Park Avenue?
She edged along next to a huge herd of people crossing Times Square at a light. Then they stood, packed on a traffic island, waiting interminably for the sea of racing cabs to come to a brief stop. When the light changed, Natty moved across the wide expanse, hopeful that she was headed the right way. Then it started to rain.

God, she'd never catch up to Charlie before he got to his building
. At the corner of 43rd Street, she kicked off her shoes and sprinted down the sidewalk. Her short dress was easy to run in, and she ran as fast as she could in her stocking feet.

Natty was thoroughly soaked by the time she darted across Fifth Avenue. The cracks in the cement tore at the soles of her nylons. At Madison Avenue, she turned right and ran on the nearly empty sidewalk. As she passed a large bin overflowing with trash, Natty tossed her high heels onto the pile. She glanced at her watch.
Dammit! Charlie probably got a taxi as soon as it started to rain.

She ran faster now, and her lungs and legs were starting to get the early burn that felt so good when she ran at home. The feet of her panty hose had torn away and now flopped around her ankles. Since 39th Street didn't look familiar, she ran on to 38th. At the corner, she stopped in the recessed doorway of an airline sales office, pulled off her panty hose, and rolled them in a ball. She deposited them in the trash container at the corner with a laugh.
They must find some weird stuff in the public trash in New York City!

Natty jogged down 38th Street and was relieved to see she was nearing Park Avenue. She scanned the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street but saw no one who looked like Charlie. She was in less of a hurry now, realizing the futility of her chase. Charlie must already be in his apartment, fast asleep. Tomorrow morning, they'd go for a run. Then she'd get on the bus and head back to Red Bone. Maybe she'd see Charlie again, maybe not. Who knew, with the way things were going with his company. Maybe he'd just go to China without even returning to West Virginia.

Natty decided to walk one block in each direction, then walk back to the Milford Plaza and hope she didn't get mugged. The office buildings and storefronts on Park Avenue were dark. She was starting to shiver from the cold. The rain had abated, but the temperature was dropping, and her clothes were soaked. She could feel the sideways glances of the late-night walkers taking note of the barefoot woman, soaked and searching for something—like a lost dog—and she suddenly felt foolish and alone.

Passing a small shop, Natty noticed her reflection in the window. She'd forgotten about her haircut, and it looked strange to her, as if she were seeing someone else. The rain had matted down her hair, making it appear even shorter, but she had to admit that, even after running halfway across Manhattan in the pouring rain, she didn't look half bad. As she turned away from the window, she noticed the silver lettering for the Carlos Marché Salon.

“Natty?” Charlie's voice came from the shadows in front of the large glass front doors to his building. He stepped out into the light. “Nat?” he repeated. She stopped in her tracks.

“Hey, Charlie.” He was without his sport jacket. He must have gone inside and come back out. She moved slowly toward him. “How'd you know I'd come?”

“I didn't. I was just hoping.” He smiled. “I'm surprised you could find the building.”

“Wasn't easy. Lost my shoes, then my stockings,” she said with a laugh.

“You must be cold.”

“Nah, I'm okay. Little wet, but…” She looked around her nervously.

Charlie watched her for a few moments. “You want to come up?” he asked softly.

Natty smiled at him. Then her eyes went up and her head followed, looking toward the lights visible on the second floor. She stared at the second-floor windows for a few seconds, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She looked at the sidewalk and squeezed her eyes shut. “Goddammit,” she whispered to herself. “God
dammit,
” she repeated angrily, stamping her bare foot on the wet sidewalk. She looked up and Charlie saw tears in her eyes. He took a long step toward her and put his hands on her upper arms.

“Nat, what is it?”

She shook her head and took another deep breath. Tears ran down her cheeks. “I'm sorry, Charlie. I can't do this,” she said. She looked up into his eyes. “I love you, Charlie,” her voice squeaked, “but I can't
do
this.”

“Natty—”

She dropped her arms, twisting away from Charlie. Then she stopped with her back to him.