The Night Visitors(66)
“It’s . . . I wonder . . . is it okay to feel bad for someone who was bad?”
It takes me a second to understand what he’s asking, and then I sink straight to the floor, kneeling in front of him. I put my hands on either side of his head and turn him to face me. “Of course it is, sweetie. We all of us have good and bad inside. And the bad parts . . . well, likely they got there through something bad that happened to that person. That’s not an excuse not to try to be your best . . . but it can help you to understand and forgive the people who are mean to you. And as for your father . . .” I try to think of something good to say about Davis. I remember those crappy Happy Meal toys Oren would play with and recall that Davis would bring them home for him. I remember how proud he was of Oren when he first came up with the game. The boy gets his smarts from me. It was a self-centered kind of love, but still . . . “Your father loved you,” I say firmly. “And it’s okay to feel bad that he’s gone.”
Oren nods, a couple of tears sliding down his face, and then he falls into my arms and fits himself to my body. “Can I stay with you, Alice?” he asks after a few minutes.
“Of course, buddy,” I say, hoping it’s true. “I won’t let anyone take you away.”
MATTIE AND WAYNE come up a few minutes later. Wayne is wiping his eyes. “I’m only crying on account of my sister and her kids,” he says to me, as if he needs to apologize for grieving.
“I get it,” I tell him, handing him a cup of hot cocoa.
“It’s okay,” Oren says, patting Wayne’s hand. “Everybody’s got good and bad inside of them.”
Wayne looks at Oren as if he’d just heard the Dalai Lama’s voice come out of him. I’m amazed and ridiculously proud to hear my own words coming out of Oren’s mouth.
While Wayne sits down next to Oren, I jump up to help Mattie fill bowls with chili. “We need to call the police on Wayne’s cell phone,” Mattie says in a low voice. “I’ll tell them there are two bodies in the house and one in the barn. I imagine they’ll be out here by morning. I plan to be forthright in what I tell them. Except for one thing.”
She waits until I look up at her to continue. “What thing?” I ask.
She glances over to check that Wayne and Oren are busy talking. “You probably don’t know that there’s a switch by the barn door that operates the hay pulley—or that there’s a generator out there in the barn that I fired up when we were out there earlier.”
“I don’t remember . . . ,” I say, wondering what she’s getting at. I’m pretty sure she did no such thing.
Mattie lifts one eyebrow. “I think if you search your memory you’ll recall my saying that I just wanted to check that it was working. I left it running in case we needed it later. So when Chief Barnes pointed his firearm at me and made it clear he intended to kill me and then you and Oren, I switched on the hay pulley to disarm him.”
“That’s not what happened,” I say.
“Do you want to explain to the police what did happen?” she asks me. “Neither you nor Oren have any idea how to operate that pulley. And if you say you did it . . . well, I don’t want to add any complications to your custody suit for Oren. You do want to seek custody, I’m assuming.”
I nod, unable to speak for a moment. Then I manage, “What about you?”
“I’ll tell my story as best as I can and hope the judge and jury believe me. I’ve got a couple of lawyer friends . . . I’ll be fine.”
She looks away then to ladle the last bowl of chili. She’s not at all sure she’ll be fine, but I don’t think I can argue her out of it. And I do want to get custody of Oren. I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything. The fact that Mattie is willing to risk her own welfare for me to get it makes me feel for the first time that I might be worthy of it.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Mattie
WE SPEND THE waning hours of the night circled around the woodstove playing Texas Hold’em. At first I think we’re all trying to act normal for Oren’s sake. Alice keeps giving him more hot cocoa and cookies (so much for those dental bills), Wayne engages him by talking about astronomy (and promising to let him come look through his telescope), and I cheat every once in a while for the pleasure of Oren catching me. But at some point I catch a satisfied smile on Oren’s face and realize that here is a child who takes on the weight of the emotions around him by playing the peacemaker. I’d done it myself for my parents most of my life; the only time they didn’t bicker between themselves was when they were united in their regard—or censure—for me. Winning first prize in the spelling bee and getting the highest grades in school worked for a while, but then so did getting called in by the principal for cutting class. I bet that poltergeist Davis mentioned is another way Oren shoulders that weight. There’ll come a time when it’s too heavy on him and I hope to be around to ease it a bit.
No one wants to go into any other room, so Wayne and I haul sleeping bags and camping mats into the kitchen. Alice and Oren curl up together, and Wayne and I share a pot of coffee, talking in whispers, as if Oren and Alice were our kids.
“You were in the class three years ahead of me,” I say. “You played football and scored the tie-breaking touchdown of the last game your senior year.”