The Qualities of Wood (30 page)

‘I know that!' Mrs Brodie snapped.

‘I've seen her in the woods too,' Mr Stokes said, then appeared ruffled by his admission. ‘She must have enjoyed it, I guess, the trees, the fresh air.' He turned away.

Nowell stared at Mrs Brodie. ‘The last time I saw her, she told me about you and my father. She told me that she was my sister. Obviously, I was shocked and to be honest, I didn't believe her. I said some things—' Nowell looked down. ‘She ran off.'

Vivian's voice trembled. ‘Did you follow her?'

Crickets echoed over the land, vast and endless now, not the small parcel they knew but a chasm of indiscretions and regrets. A stealthy wind gathered.

‘Yes,' Nowell said. ‘I followed her into the woods.'

Katherine stepped towards Mrs Brodie. ‘But Kitty, Sherman Gardiner wasn't Chanelle's father, was he?'

Mrs Brodie sighed. ‘I wish he'd been. Oh, you don't know how many times I wished that.' She looked at Nowell. ‘Your father was a good man. He wouldn't have left
me high and dry like her father did.' Suddenly, she smiled. ‘He was a louse, Chanelle's father, but he was good-looking. Thick, black hair like a raven, tall and built solid. Like you boys. I didn't think I'd ever get over him, but I did. We have to keep living, right?' She gave a brief, dry laugh. ‘We're all in this together.'

Mr Stokes stepped towards Nowell, his shoulders thrust back. One arm stayed back, motioning to Miss Burnside to stay put. ‘What happened in the woods, Mr Gardiner?'

Nowell looked up, realizing he meant him. He looked instead at Mrs Brodie. ‘Why would she say she was our sister if she wasn't?'

‘Because I let her think it,' Mrs Brodie barked, saliva spraying from her mouth. ‘You understand? It made her happy to believe it. Your father was good to her, always brought her a gift and took the time to talk with her. They had a trust between them.' She crossed her arms. ‘I won't be ashamed of what I did. It was a gift I gave her, something better than history.'

‘I guess that's why she started hanging around once the Gardiners came,' Mr Stokes said.

They all looked at him.

His eyes flashed. ‘I already said I saw her out there sometimes.' In her long, white smock, Delta Clement Burnside stepped forward and stood next to him.

Vivian thought about the night she invaded his home, the illusions she'd had about him.

In the distance, a car engine whined and sputtered. All at once, the air smelled like rain.

Vivian turned towards Nowell. ‘What happened in the woods?' she asked.

He took a deep breath. ‘She ran and I followed her. I still didn't believe her but I shouldn't have yelled like that, shouldn't have lost my temper. I'd only been here for a short time. I didn't know my way around. I tripped a few times and I could barely see through the trees.'

‘Did you see her fall?' Lonnie asked.

‘Yes, no.' Nowell's hands went into his hair. ‘I mean, I saw her drop out of sight, but I was still so far back. I thought I saw her after that. Her hair, through the trees. I thought she had gotten up. And some part of me realized if I kept chasing her, she might get hurt. I knew she lived back here. She was just headed home, I thought.'

‘You should have made sure she got there safely,' Mrs Brodie said, her voice wavering.

Nowell's eyes widened. ‘I didn't even know her!' He looked down. ‘Sorry. Yes, I should have followed. But I thought I saw her again, after the fall. I could've sworn I saw her get up.'

‘But what if she was alive,' Mrs Brodie cried. ‘What if she suffered…'

‘Mrs Brodie.' Mr Stokes's voice was steady. ‘Sheriff Townsend said it was too fast, too much trauma. She didn't suffer, I'm sure of that.'

Katherine stepped forward, pulling Max with her. ‘Let's go back to the house,' she said. ‘We should call someone for Kitty.'

Lonnie walked past, smelling of sweat and liquor, and extended his large, rough hand to Mrs Brodie. She took it and stood up from the rock.

He led them out of the woods. Watching his broad shoulders as he pushed through the trees, Vivian realized that all along, he must have known something about what happened with Nowell and Chanelle Brodie. Dot was wrong about Lonnie, she thought. He keeps things inside, just like everyone else.

Nowell brought up the rear of their somber line. Vivian lingered back. He caught up and supported her as they negotiated the uneven terrain. The pain in her elbow and wrist had dulled, leaving only a soft ache that stretched the length of her arm.

‘You should have told me,' she whispered.

‘I know,' he said.

‘Why would you hide this? You didn't do anything wrong. Right?' She searched his face.

‘Of course not,' he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. ‘I just felt guilty, the way I had yelled at her, and when I found out what happened…' He paused. ‘I didn't want to risk anything.'

She came out from under his arm and steadied herself. ‘You've been so distant.'

‘I'm sorry,' he said.

She thought about Nowell and Chanelle, sitting on the porch at the house, while she was working in the city. She pulled on his shirt to slow him down. ‘There was something you said, something about your feelings.'

‘Viv…'

‘What feelings? You felt sorry for her?'

‘She's a kid. I mean, she was a kid.' As they walked, the inconstant moonlight was filtered through the branches and segmented his face into shadows. His high cheekbones were highlighted in the silver glow; above them, his eyes gleamed. ‘She had problems,' he added.

‘Katherine said she was beautiful,' Vivian said, hating at once the pleading tone in her voice.

Nowell stopped walking, turned her body towards him. ‘I think it's natural. I mean, we were apart for so long. It doesn't mean anything. I didn't
do
anything.'

She jerked her shoulders out of his grasp. ‘What exactly are you saying?'

‘I was attracted to her, I guess.'

‘You guess?'

‘No, I was.' He glanced ahead; the rest of their group had vanished into the dark, engulfed by the trees. ‘I was all alone here.'

Her throat made an ugly, choking sound. ‘So was I.'

‘This is getting out of control,' he said. ‘It was nothing. I don't even know why I mentioned it. Only, it was bothering me, because I thought she was my sister. And I wondered, why didn't I sense that?'

‘It didn't bother you that you're married?'

His face darkened. ‘Grow up, Viv. People have attractions.'

‘And she wasn't your sister.'

‘I know that now.'

She crossed her arms over her chest. ‘What a relief
that
must be.'

Nowell placed his hands on her shoulders again and she felt the weight of them, the warmth. The burden and the comfort. Stubbornly, she turned her head away.

‘Viv,' he said. ‘The biggest relief I've ever felt was when you got up from that rock and I saw you were okay.'

She looked up: the soft flesh of his neck, the dark hair, smooth and cool to the touch, the crescent-shaped mark under his eyebrow. Nowell.

‘I'm sorry,' he said again.

Vivian was still stunned by his revelation but already, the sting was fading. He wasn't the person she had thought, nobody really was. But he would never hurt anyone on purpose. She was sure of that.

‘It's you and me,' he said. ‘You know that.'

Reaching with her sore arm, she wrapped herself around his waist. His arms came down, enveloping her like a blanket.

‘Are we okay?' he asked. His breath was warm on the crown of her head.

‘I don't know,' she said. ‘I really don't know.' She leaned back to see his face. ‘It might take time.'

He nodded, pulling her close again.

Suddenly, it seemed that a page was turned, an intersection crossed. Her mind turned to the future. She needed to take more interest in his work, in him, and she needed to find work of her own. She remembered the pottery class she'd take with Katherine, the
sketchbook her mother had sent, the worth she had felt from a day of honest work. Maybe she'd find another part of herself after all. Chanelle Brodie wouldn't get another chance.

‘Number One!' Lonnie's voice broke through the quiet.

Nowell reached out and she took his hand. They continued on until they reached the others and silently, they proceeded as a group. As they broke through the trees, the path lightened; the glowing orb of the moon had cleared the woods as well. Shining brightly at a great height, it cast glimmers onto the tall blades of grass, which bent and crackled softly under their feet. After two weeks of stifling heat, the breeze was cool. Above their heads, swollen storm clouds assembled, a solemn tribunal.

Battered survivors, they made their way out of the woods. Brief connections, Vivian thought: greed, fear, happiness. Even if other systems of living exist, somewhere in the vast unknown, this, now, is our reality.

We're in this together
.

Nowell stood in the tall, swaying grass. ‘I need to mow the lawn,' he said.

Vivian remembered the first time she saw him in Geology class, the way he looked at her. Near his temples, the tips of his hair curled like a moist paintbrush, and he had the same dark eyes, deep as the well beside the house. She squeezed his hand and pressed her feet, one after the other, against the spinning earth. On the summit, Russell Gardiner's structure endured, a lighthouse on a sea of green, the brightness spilling from within making the unfamiliar familiar, and beckoning them home.

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