The Sky Fisherman (3 page)

I spread my hands. "Not to me."

Finally, Riley went outside to talk with one of the kids pumping gas. I could tell how much Riley hated doing it, because they were the kind of wiseasses you always see at gas stations—ripped jeans, dirty caps tipped back on their heads—kids just waiting to drink a couple six packs after work.

"Saw a gal climb into a big old Bekins moving truck and head north," one kid said. He stuffed part of a candy bar into his mouth and tossed the wrapper at the trash bucket. "I suppose that could have been her."

"Was she wearing a green dress?" Riley asked. "Sunglasses?"

"Can't say for sure," the kid said. "Wasn't looking much at the dress." Smirking now, he winked at his buddy.

"Good legs for an old gal," the buddy said.

Anger flushed my face, and even though they were a couple years older than me, I wanted for Riley and me to take them, but he let it drop.

"I'm sure that wasn't Flora," Riley said as we headed for the car. "That's not one bit like her."

The speedometer stayed under ten miles per hour all the way to Griggs. "Look sharp," he told me. "She might have took sick and be lying in the ditch somewhere. Those pears looked touched. She saw that right off. I wished she'd ordered the peaches instead."

"I'm keeping my eyes peeled, Riley," I said. And I was, but when I got to thinking about the new green dress and the sunglasses, I didn't think she was in any ditch. As we pulled off the main road and into Griggs, the Coastal Flyer came by, and I thought of the time I had ridden across the state with my mother. Now I half wished she might be on that train, heading somewhere exciting.

As the train passed, Riley opened the car door to spit, so I spotted them first. The crossing gate was still going up, its red lights blinking, and I had to strain my eyes a little to make out the two white figures against the shadowy background of willows at the river edge. The moon had just risen above the basalt cliffs and covered everything with an eerie pale light.

Dwight had taken off all his clothes, including the railroad cap, but his size and shape were unmistakable, even at that distance. She was naked too, and they were in the shallows but wading toward deep water.

Riley hadn't closed the car door; his arm remained straight out from his side and seemed frozen stiff. Then he muttered, "Flora, by God."

When he looked at me, Riley's eyes were widened in amazement and confusion. I realized then that he understood nothing about his life or circumstances; chances were slim he ever would. And I believed he was capable of some desperate act, the kind you read about in newspapers.

He got out of the car, and the gravel crunched beneath his feet as he began striding toward the two waders. "Hey," he shouted, but they didn't hear him. "Hey, God damn it!"

I climbed out too, thinking I could stop him. I slammed the car door and broke into a run, hoping I could catch up.

A
S RILEY APPROACHED
, Dwight's head snapped up. "What in thunder are you doing intruding on us like this?" Dwight said. "We want a little privacy!"

The woman was glaring at us, too, and up close you could tell right off she wasn't my mother, although at a distance they bore some resemblance. When I looked back and saw a second car in Dwight's yard, I knew how wrong we'd been.

Riley's mouth opened, but he didn't say anything, so I mumbled an apology and tried to look anywhere but directly at Dwight and his wife, even though I'd already seen pretty much what there was to see.

"Maybe you'd better head back to your place and let us be," Dwight said. "She's been away two weeks."

Taking Riley's elbow gently, I turned him back toward Griggs and our little place. After undressing without saying a word, he carried a pillow and blanket out to the couch so he could be near the phone.

I had trouble falling asleep and kept thinking about Dwight and his wife down at the river. In the middle of the night, Riley shook me from the fretful sleep, and my heart raced when I figured there'd been bad news.

"What is it, Riley?" I asked, gripping his shoulders.

"Do you think she took any money with her? Do you?"

"I don't know, Riley," I said, then relaxed my hold. "I really don't have any idea."

***

Riley headed to Barlow early the next morning after first making me promise to stay close by the phone. "Women will find a way to frost your balls every time, Culver," he said. "Remember that. She's having herself some kind of genuine fit, but I can't hang around and take a chance on losing this job."

"I hear you, Riley."

I fixed some corn flakes and then went outside to shoot baskets. All the windows were open, so I could hear the phone if it rang. The morning was still cool and the red-winged blackbirds fluttered in the willows at the river edge. When I looked at the place where Dwight had been swimming with his wife, I blinked a couple of times to make certain I hadn't imagined the whole thing.

About nine, my mother called.

"We were worried plenty," I said. "Are you all right?"

"Where's Riley?" she asked.

"Gone off to Barlow," I said.

"That's good. Your uncle Jake and I are coming with a truck, and I don't care to see Riley just now. You understand, don't you, honey?" She paused and when I didn't answer, she continued. "So you better start getting your things together. We're going to have a brand-new life, Culver. An absolutely fresh start."

Her enthusiasm seemed genuine and I didn't want to spoil her mood, but to be honest, I wasn't looking forward much to the fresh start. We hadn't finished unpacking from the last one.

"Say hi to your uncle Jake. He can't wait to see you."

Jake got on the phone. "Hey, Culver, I've got some good news. The store's air conditioned and the job's yours."

He sounded hearty and confident, the way I remembered him. I tried to seem upbeat. "That's terrific."

"These rich dudes keep hiring me to go fishing, and I need a good man to hold down the store. We're busier than a one-armed fry cook. Gateway's going through quite a boom. You'll love it."

"Sounds great." I held the phone away from my ear a little. "Say, where are you, anyway?"

"Having breakfast in Pratt. See you in an hour. This call is burning money."

"In an hour," I said, but he had already hung up.

Almost by habit, I packed my clothes in two battered blue suitcases that had belonged to my father. Then I carried in some of the empty moving boxes. They were still marked according to what they had held
for the Griggs move, and I started stuffing sheets and pillowcases into the "linen" box. After a few minutes I stopped because I couldn't understand how to divide things.

Five long honks announced the truck's arrival, and I went outside to see the U-Haul bouncing over the tracks. It was a small truck with a twelve-foot bed and I knew at least they had the size right. We didn't have all that much stuff.

Jake backed the truck to the front door, and even though I gave him some hand signals, he didn't need them. Jumping out, he revealed a quickness that made him seem younger than forty. His arms and face were tanned from spending so many hours on the river, and his gray eyes were slightly bloodshot from the sun's glare. When he shook my hand, he grinned and exclaimed, "Look at this scrapper. He's grown into a good-looking devil."

"Isn't he handsome?" my mother said. "I'm not just saying that because he's my son.
Everybody
thinks he's handsome." Smiling, she hugged me. "I'm sorry you were so worried. When's Riley due back?"

I shrugged. "He didn't say, but it sounded like they had a big day."

"Perhaps we should get started," she said, looking at Jake.

"All right," he said. "I'm anxious to have this boy see Gateway."

As we packed, he talked with great enthusiasm about the town. "Lots of construction. Gateway's building two new subdivisions and the plywood mill's going a hundred ten percent. Three shifts—'round the clock. And they're building a big dam on the Upper Lost for power and flood control. The workers are hunting and fishing fools—spend half their paychecks in my store."

"It sounds great," my mother said.

"Even the Indians are doing okay," my uncle said. "They're finishing a big lodge and resort on the reservation. Got piles of federal money. Eighteen-hole golf course smack by the river. The Frybread Tournament's scheduled this summer. Pretty soon they're going to tear down a bunch of reservation houses and put up new ones. I tell you, this whole country's booming."

"And we're going to be part of it," my mother said. "It sounds wonderful, doesn't it, Culver?"

Jake punched my shoulder. "You'll love the high school's new gymnasium. University-style hardwood floors and glass backboards. I got the contracts for the uniforms and shoes, too." He grinned. "Of course, I had to show the superintendent and athletic director a couple of secret
fishing holes on the Lost. The fix was in, but don't worry; I saved the very best for family."

"I'm sure it will all be lovely," my mother said.

She directed our packing and didn't seem to hesitate about what to leave and what to take. "We'll buy some new furniture," she said. "This has gotten so shabby." Of course, she took the love seat and drum table.

Dwight's wife never left the house, but he wandered over to check things out. From his casual manner, you couldn't tell anything had happened the night before. "I see you're leaving us," he said to my mother. "What about Riley?"

"They're splitting the sheets," Jake said.

"An opportunity came up for a job in another town," my mother said. "A wonderful opportunity."

"Is that right," Dwight said. "I'm sorry to see you go."

He didn't offer to help with the loading, but maybe it was just as well. We were doing fine by ourselves. As we were finishing, I thought about my mother's word "opportunity." Maybe she was referring to my job or one she planned to get, but the word sounded good and my mood improved a little. With Riley, it seemed we had been slipping downgrade for a long time. Now Jake's enthusiasm and my mother's good cheer convinced me better times really were coming.

Still, I felt low spirited about running out on Riley, leaving him to bach at that miserable little siding. After the truck was loaded, I went back into the house a moment, and it struck me how bare it looked. I sat at the kitchen table and tried to write a note, but nothing much came to mind. Finally, I printed, "Riley, we went to Jake's. You take good care now," signing it with just my name. I didn't feel like adding "love" or "your son," because that would have been close to outright lying and perhaps make both of us feel worse.

Before climbing into the truck, I stood on the tracks and stared long and hard toward Barlow. Maybe I expected to see the speeder car, just a speck in the distance at first, then growing larger and larger as it approached with Riley at the wheel. However, I didn't see anything except the long empty track and scattered blackbirds along the telegraph wires.

On the long trip to Gateway, Jake spent the first couple of hours talking about the town's boom, what with the tourists, plywood mill, lodge, and construction projects. "Some days, I take in fifteen hundred dollars, and that's not hay. You'll find a job there easy, Flora, and the boy can be my right-hand man."

My mother hugged her knees, and even then I could see her arms were trembling. "It's exciting, isn't it. A fresh start. I just had a tremendous feeling."

After a while she leaned back and closed her eyes, but a slight smile lingered on her face and she seemed to relax. She looked younger, I thought, and I was struck again at how pretty she was. Maybe it was possible for us to improve things, get ahead a little, especially with Jake leading the way.

Frowning suddenly, she opened her eyes and turned to my uncle. "Can you blame me?" Something about the way she said it made me shrink back in my seat a little, because I sensed a sorrow and anger older and deeper than anything Riley had caused.

Jake might have sensed it, too. After a few moments he said, "Hey, nobody blames you for anything."

"He just didn't have any gumption," she said, and I realized she was now focusing on Riley. "What kind of an example is he for a boy like Culver, one with so much potential."

"You're doing the right thing," Jake said. "No question."

"Absolutely right," she said, setting her mouth straight across.

"Think of this kid." Jake grinned at me. "You've done a great job with him. A smart kid, good looking; he'll be running Gateway in a couple years—the whole enchilada."

"Of course," she said, reaching over to tousle my hair. "Everything's going to be better."

Pleased with the praise, I closed my eyes and leaned back to rest. The truck vibrations were soothing, and I felt good that we were getting somewhere at last. Mother's perfume mingled with Jake's aftershave and the smells of crops outside—alfalfa, wheat, onions—and the good moist smell of water in ditches.

We all sounded so optimistic, and I realized how long it had been since I had believed anyone who talked in such a hopeful way about things. Sometimes, when Riley had tried to sound hopeful, his words were hollowed with doubt, like a kid calling out on a dark night, pretending not to be afraid.

"What is it?" I asked, waking up. The truck was still running, but Jake had stopped it on the shoulder.

"Smell that," he said.

I took a deep breath, but couldn't place the pungent odor.

"Mint," he said. "Right in this county we grow half the peppermint in the whole damn United States."

"No kidding," I said. "What do they use it for?"

"Candy, toothpaste. Some old fart opens his Pepsodent, he's got Jackson County to thank for the flavor."

"Hang on a second," I said. "I want to get some." Climbing out of the truck, I remembered how much my mother had enjoyed the lamb with mint sauce. Reaching through the fence, I grabbed some of the dark green stems and leaves, bruising them between my fingers to release a stronger scent. In the distance a yellow biplane swooped low, crop dusting an emerald green field. When I climbed back into the truck, I handed several sprigs to my mother. "Doesn't this smell great?"