Redemption Mountain (65 page)

Charlie nodded. He raised the window and drove slowly down the hill. He wasn't sure what Sally meant by
it all
, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered anymore. He was leaving, and all these people in Red Bone would get along like they always had, and pretty soon they'd forget he was ever there. Just another outsider who'd come for the coal.
The way it's always been, for the last hundred years.

 

EPILOGUE

 

S
pring arrived earlier in Red Bone, West Virginia, than it did in central China, or even Mamaroneck. The grass of the soccer field was soft and thick underfoot and, with a few more weeks of sunlight, would explode with growth. Ellen's heels sank into the soft turf, causing her to lean on Charlie's arm to keep her balance. Up ahead, a publicist from Charleston, carrying large plastic scissors, and a photographer hefting several bags of equipment walked quickly to keep up with the OntAmex representative, who'd flown in for the event.

Charlie knew that the OntAmex man had drawn the short straw to fly down for the library dedication and couldn't wait to get it over with. The black helicopter hissed on the baseball field behind them, ready for a speedy departure. Charlie spied Eve Brewster, Mabel Willard, and several others from the Red Bone Baptist Church Social Club at the top of the stairway up to the library. Ada, Gus, and Janice Lowe would be there, too. Charlie took a deep breath. Four months in China hadn't been long enough.

The photographer and the publicist assembled everyone for the ribbon cutting. Zack and Sammy Willard, looking uncomfortable in suit jackets that were growing smaller by the minute, held each end of the wide red ribbon. Behind them, a plaque on the library wall displayed a reasonably good likeness of Emma holding a soccer ball, next to the inscription
EMMA C. LOWE MEMORIAL LIBRARY.

Charlie, Ellen, and Hank stood at the back of the small crowd. Hank frowned and emitted a low growl, unhappy with the people chosen for the picture. Charlie didn't care. The OntAmex man delivered a sixty-second speech, and everyone made their way inside for sparkling cider and doughnuts. Hank took Ellen on a tour of the new library, stocked with the books she'd arranged to have donated by the Westchester Library Association. The new superintendent of the power plant walked over to Charlie.

“How's the new big mule?” Charlie asked. The engineer laughed. They talked for several minutes about the progress of the construction and the typical union problems that never seemed to go away. A brief pause allowed Charlie to change the subject. “So how's Buck Oakes doing? Job going okay for him?”

The superintendent was surprised that Charlie would know one of the security guards. “Oakes is doing okay, I guess. Haven't heard any complaints. Had a little beef with one of the other guards, but no big deal.” He looked over Charlie's shoulder and smiled. “Speak of the devil,” he said.

Charlie turned to see Buck's white pickup pull into the parking lot. Pie clambered out of the truck and trotted over to Charlie, followed by his father. Pie definitely seemed older, but the infectious look that Charlie would always remember him by remained. They gave each other a long high-five, then Charlie pulled him closer. “How's my best friend in West Virginia?”

“Charlie,” Pie said excitedly, escaping the headlock, “Papa and me, we go hunting in the winter, and I shot a deer with my own rifle.” Pie beamed.

“Wow, that's great, Pie Man,” Charlie said, “getting a deer, that's really something.”

Pie's smile disappeared. He put his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet nervously. He glanced up as his father came over.

Charlie looked at Buck, then back at Pie. “What's up, Pie Man? What's the matter?”

Pie looked down at his feet. “Charlie, I am not Pie Man anymore. When I go to Univerthity of Michigan to be a engineer, like Charlie, they will laugh at me if I am called Pie Man.” He shrugged. “Pie Man ith a baby name, and I am not a baby anymore. My name ith
Boyd.
Boyd Oakth.”

Charlie looked at Buck for confirmation. “His idea,” said Buck. “Kid's finally growin' up, I guess.” Pie Man's happy face was back.

Charlie offered his hand. “I'm glad to meet you, Boyd Oakes. That's a fine name for an engineer.” Charlie turned to Buck. He looked as if he'd put on a little weight since Charlie had last seen him. “How you doing, Buck?”

“Okay, Burden,” Buck replied. “Good to see you again.”

“Job going okay?” asked Charlie.

Buck turned toward the library. “It's all right,” he said. “Good to be workin'.” Charlie studied Buck's face for a second. He could still feel the anger lurking just below the surface. He started to ask Buck if Natty was coming to the open house, but Buck beat him to it. “Nat was going to come,” said Buck, “but her leg's been hurtin' her some, and it ain't easy for her to walk. But she likes workin' up here at the library,” he added. “Can't do her nursin' no more, so this is a good job for her.”

Charlie smiled. “That's good.” Then there was nothing left to say. “Well,” he said, rubbing the top of Pie's head. The boy's hair had grown back in the months since the soccer tournament. “Better get some doughnuts and cider before the Willard boys eat everything.”

They went into the library and joined the throng. Charlie lingered in the entryway, chatting with a few of the women from the Red Bone Baptist Church Social Club, until everyone left him to find the doughnuts. Alone, Charlie moved over to the trophy case hanging on the wall inside the front door.

On a tall pedestal sat the remains of the Charleston tournament trophy. It had been refinished in a deep brown. The inscription on the front gleamed. Against the back of the case was a huge photo of the Bones at the Charleston tournament, listing the players' names at the bottom. Charlie stepped closer for a better look, staring intently at the face of each boy in the front before he allowed himself to look at her, in the middle of the picture, with an arm around Emma's shoulders. Natty was laughing, with the smile that made his heart skip. He sighed deeply as he noticed Ellen and Hank walking toward him.

“Trophy looks great, Hank,” said Charlie.

“Came out okay,” Hank said, glancing at it briefly before heading for the door. The OntAmex man and the PR woman were herding people outside.

Ellen came over to Charlie. “Time to go,” she said. Charlie smiled at his wife and nodded. Eve Brewster grabbed Charlie for the walk down to the field, while Ellen went ahead with Hank. They fell in behind Ada and Gus and Janice Lowe, going down the long cement stairway. Up ahead, the women of the Red Bone Baptist Church Social Club were moving slowly down the stairs, holding up the procession. The OntAmex man and the PR woman were halfway across the soccer field.

Charlie smiled.
They'll just have to wait
. He would enjoy his last few minutes chatting with Eve. They walked arm-in-arm across the mushy sod of the soccer field, while she brought him up to date on life in Red Bone. Mr. Jacks had moved in with Natty and Buck after Natty visited him in Beckley. She took one look at the conditions, loaded him into her car, and brought him back to Red Bone, where they made a space for him in their trailer. Charlie laughed. He could picture Natty doing that. And the best thing about it, Eve added, was that Buck was okay with it.

The pitch of the turbines' whistle went up a notch as the helicopter's blades began to spin. Beside the gazebo, people were saying their goodbyes. Charlie watched as Ellen hugged Ada Lowe. He turned and gazed up the hill, to the fourth-floor porch where he'd spent so many evenings with Hank. The rear of the building was bathed in late-morning sunlight. Charlie took a deep breath. “I loved it here, Eve. This is a wonderful place, with wonderful people.”

Eve squeezed his arm and stared into space, a wry grin on her face. “Charlie,” she said, “I'm going to go over and say goodbye to Ellen now.” She nodded toward the street before starting off for the gazebo. Charlie turned and saw the orange Camaro roll to a stop at the side of the road. Sally had her arm extended out the window, a cigarette in her hand. She glanced over at Charlie and then toward her passenger.

Natty finally opened the door and stepped out. She held the seat forward to let Cat out of the back, and they both walked toward Charlie. Natty said something to her daughter, and Cat ran ahead. The little girl glanced nervously at Charlie and put her head down as she sped by. Natty moved slowly, with a noticeable limp, leaning on a cane. When she arrived at the field, her cane sank in the soft turf, forcing her to pull it out before taking her next step. She smiled at Charlie and put her head down to concentrate on the placement of her cane in the wet grass. He took a few steps toward her, conscious of the eyes watching them.

She stopped about eight feet away and looked around at the new turf. “Used to have a nice field here, nice and hard, with a lot of stones. Easy to walk on.” She looked up. “Hey, Charlie.”

Charlie smiled. “How are you, Nat?”

She shrugged. “Knee ain't so good. Had to put some phony ligaments and stuff in there. Six months, maybe, I'll be fine, runnin' around again, all over the mountain.” Natty's hair had darkened and grown out a little, with a shock starting to fall across her forehead once again. “I ain't complainin', though.” She looked over at the gazebo, where Buck stood, his hands in his pockets, staring back at her. “Buck's been great, you know, since … since the accident.”

Ellen waved, and Natty waved back. “Your wife still sticks out in a crowd, don't she, Charlie?”

He glanced over at Ellen. “She does that.”

“How's she like her new house?”

Charlie turned back toward Natty. “We're selling it this week.”

“She okay with that?”

He smiled. “She's got a bigger one to play with in China.”

Natty continued to gaze over at Ellen. “I heard you were in China,” she said. “Like you always wanted, huh, Charlie? Buildin' somethin' important.”

“Yes, that's right. It's what I always wanted.”

Natty watched Ellen climb into the helicopter. “Looks like they're waiting for you, Charlie.”

He took a step closer. “I'm glad you came, Natty. I wanted to see you.”

She flashed a brief smile. “Got most of my memory back now.” She turned her face toward the library on the hill. “Not all of it, though. Don't remember
her
yet,” said Natty. “I stare and stare at that picture up there, and sometimes I get these quick flashes of her, kickin' a ball or runnin' down the field, but they're gone in a second.” She looked back at Charlie. “Remember 'most everything else, though, 'cept for the accident.”

As Charlie watched her speak, surrounded by the green field and the forest behind her, his time with her suddenly flashed back to him—their runs along the mountain trail, the soccer games, their night at the Pocahontas Hotel with Woody and Mr. Jacks, the lobster party … falling in love with her. The helicopter whined impatiently on the baseball field.

“Hear some music once in a while from the show, and I think about New York.” Natty laughed. “What a weekend that was, huh, Charlie?”

Their eyes locked for a moment, sharing the memory of what almost was, then Natty turned toward the gazebo, where Buck stood with Pie and Cat.

“Funny how things work out sometimes,” she said.

Charlie looked down at her and stared into her eyes. “Yeah, it is,” he said. Natty smiled at him.

Charlie turned toward the helicopter. “Time to go,” he said.

Natty leaned on her cane and held out her right hand. “Thank you, Mr. Burden, for everything.”

Charlie took her hand and squeezed it softly. “Goodbye, Mrs. Oakes.” He turned and walked with long strides toward the helicopter.

Natty stood in the center of the field and watched as Charlie shook hands with Buck and Hank, hugged Mabel and Ada, and gave Pie a high-five and a long hug. As Charlie stepped into the helicopter, Natty walked back across the field toward the orange Camaro, her cane sinking into the soft new turf of the soccer field.

 

AUTHOR'S NOTE

 

Mountaintop-removal coal mining is an environmental, ecological, political, and social catastrophe that all of America should be ashamed of. We've allowed the coal industry to turn one of the most beautiful, biodiverse, and ecologically rich areas of our country—North America's oldest mountain range—into a national energy sacrifice zone. MTR has destroyed more than five hundred mountains and two thousand miles of streams. It poisons the land and it poisons communities and the people who live there.

Only in Appalachia, where the population is thin, powerless, and poor—where the coal industry has been systematically sucking out the wealth for the past hundred years while financing the careers of complicit state politicians and judges and members of Congress—could such a cancerous fissure in the integrity of our environmental consciousness take place.

Over the past fifteen years that I have been aware of mountaintop removal, there have been many optimistic signs that the movement to eradicate MTR was assuredly under way. In 1999, a courageous federal judge, the late Charles H. Haden II, ruled against the mining industry in an MTR suit brought under the Federal Clean Water Act. Environmentalists cheered this monumental ruling. Numerous websites documenting the destruction and desecration of MTR grew into voices for advocacy and activism. Volunteers marched on Charleston, Washington, and Blair Mountain. Celebrities like Bobby Kennedy, Kathy Mattea, Emmylou Harris, Sheryl Crow, Tim McGraw, Ashley Judd, and many others joined the movement. Great books were written, including
Coal River
, by Michael Shnayerson, and the epic achievement
Plundering Appalachia
, edited by Tom Butler and George Woerthner. Heart-wrenching documentaries like
Burning the Future: Coal in America
;
Coal Country
; and
The Last Mountain
delivered what had to be knockout blows. Prestigious environmental organizations, including the Natural Resources Defense Council and the Sierra Club, embraced the fight against MTR and brought their great organizational skills and marketing resources to the cause. And then the Obama administration, with a mandate for change, swept into power, saying all the right things about MTR. Surely the end was near.