The Bourbon Thief(46)

“Momma had all of Daddy’s things boxed up and put in the attic at Arden. When she’s out of the house, I dig through it. One day I found some work papers with the name Bowen Berry on them. He’s some kind of foreman. He’s the one who told me about this place, about where to go, about the house we can stay in while we hide out.”

“Foreman? There’s a factory on the island?” He’d been picturing a tiny dot of sand in the middle of a bay, not something big enough for a factory.

“Close to the island. A cooperage. That’s where they make barrels.”

“I know what a cooperage is. Is that why Nash came down here for work? It’s where Red Thread gets its barrels?”

Tamara nodded as she unscrewed the lid of the mason jar that held what had been ice-cold water but now was warm as bathwater. A sheen of sweat covered them both even though they had both windows of his truck rolled down.

“Why’s it called Bride Island?” Levi asked.

“I don’t know,” Tamara said. “But it sounded like a good place for a bride, right?”

“Is there an island around here called What the Hell Did I Just Do Island? That’s a good place for me.”

“That’s probably Bride Island’s original name.”

“Oh, I better go with you, then.”

They had to stop for directions a few times to find the right road to the right bridge. Tamara bought a basket of blueberries from a fisherman’s wife who pointed them to their turn. They crossed two bridges after that over one island and another. The bridges here didn’t cross open water; they crossed over swamps. They took the turn the fisherman’s wife had told them to take and the road narrowed. At last they reached an old bridge, pale green and rusting.

“Well, that’s not very nice, is it?” Levi said.

Before the bridge was a gate. An iron gate in the middle of high brick walls and hanging off the middle bars was a big damn chain with a big damn lock on it and a sign warning Keep Out. Private Property. Violators Will Be Prosecuted.

Tamara barely glanced at the gate and the lock and the sign. She dug around in her purse and pulled something out.

“I got it,” she said, handing him a key. Levi looked at the key, looked at her and shook his head. He put the truck into Park, walked to the gate and unlocked the lock. He had to step off the concrete and into the dirt to get to the lock. The ground was soft and he sank half an inch into it.

“Where the hell am I?” Levi muttered to himself as he pushed open the gates. Back in the truck, Levi drove through the gates and stopped. He got back out and locked the chain behind them, not knowing who or what they were keeping out.

The bridge crossed over a muddy marsh, and when they reached the other side, the road was nothing but hard-packed dirt. On either side of the narrow road were trees, trees and more trees. He craned his neck, following the reach of the trees to the canopy above forming a tunnel. He couldn’t see a speck of sky through the green veil. Levi felt like they were being swallowed by a great beast and driving right into its gullet.

And in the air he smelled salt water.

“Are you sure we’re supposed to be here?” Levi asked. It was too much, that gate that looked like it belonged on a plantation, the trees, the moss, the sign that said Violators Will Be Prosecuted.

“We’re supposed to be here. We’re the only ones who are supposed to be here.”

“What on earth does that mean?”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Tamara said, a smile playing on her lips.

“Get what?”

“Levi, this is our island. We own it.”

Levi took a deep breath.

“Once the will’s executed?”

“No, now,” she said. “Granddaddy and Daddy made a deal. Daddy agreed to marry Momma in exchange for Granddaddy giving him ownership of the island. Momma doesn’t know about this place. Daddy didn’t love her, but he didn’t hate her. He didn’t want her to know the only reason he married her was so he could own this island. When I was born, he made sure the island was mine, too. His and mine. Not that I ever knew my name was on the deed. Bowen Berry told me when I wrote him.”

“So it’s yours.”

“Ours,” she corrected. “We’re married now.”

“I own an island,” he said.

“Don’t get too excited,” she said, looking around at the trees that surrounded them, pressing in close. “It’s not a very big island.”

“Not a very big island? You don’t get out much, do you, Rotten?”

Tamara laughed and Levi squeezed her knee, then he squeezed his own knee. Was this real? How could it be? Only in his imagination could he have conjured trees like this, so tall and proud and graceful. They seemed older than earth, older than time. This was a primeval place, and Levi sensed its sacredness. He didn’t tell that to Tamara. What with her Bible reading she’d probably think him a heathen. The ancient Greeks had their sacred groves dedicated to the gods. He didn’t believe in their gods, but he could see now why they would dedicate a forest to their sacred deities. What god would choose a man-made temple when they could build their own temple out of trees?

“Goddamn, forget gardens. They should have called it the Forest of Eden instead,” Levi said.

Tamara said nothing, only pointed to a break in the road. He turned right, onto another road, darker, narrower and even more tree-shrouded than the first. Spanish moss tickled the top of the truck as they drove through it. Levi couldn’t drive more than ten miles an hour on the road it had been so neglected. Tree branches blocked their path again and again, and he had to stop and move them out of the way or drive over them so slowly he could hear the wood crack and pop under the tires. The sun was still up—supposedly—but they couldn’t see which direction the light came from. He had no idea where the ocean was, no idea where the mainland was. He felt dizzy, but not disoriented, a warm pleasant feeling like being almost drunk with nowhere to go in the morning.