Wrapped in Rain(63)

Mutt put his hands in his pockets and stepped between the rungs of the fence into the pasture, where he brushed the tops of the waist-high grass with his fingertips. We followed him from a distance. Mutt walked out the other end of the pasture, through the pine trees, and down toward the quarry. He reached the rock ledge and cranked the zip handles up. They were rusted, locked shut, unmoving. He peered over the edge, around the rim, and settled on Hook's Jolly Roger resting at the bottom of the quarry. Back toward the house through the trees, he turned northwest, through the taller pines, around the pasture, pointing his face in the general direction of the slaughterhouse. Midway to the pasture, he came upon the cross he had made for Miss Ella. It was standing as he'd left it, alone, towering, and now covered in blooming confederate jasmine. Katie saw the cross, looked at me with wide eyes, and sat down in the pine needles, holdingJase in her lap.

Mutt rubbed his hands against the smooth wood, smelled the jasmine, and stood silently for several minutes. The pine trees around him had grown to sixty or more feet, and the light broke through in strong but filtered rays. Mutt looked like he was standing alone within the walls of a great Gothic cathedral. A weed had snaked upward through the jasmine and climbed the cross. Painstakingly, he unwound it from the jasmine, careful not to disturb the blooms, and pulled it out by the root.

Mutt pitched the weed, walked out of the pines toward St. Joseph's, and across the pasture. When he got to the graveyard, he hopped the wall and disappeared. I led Katie and Jase through the narrow entrance and found Mutt clearing the leaves off Miss Ella's grave.

Mutt left the cemetery, walked along the fencerow, and climbed the back steps to the statue of Rex. He stood for a minute, respectfully studying the horse and the rider. He circled it, scratched his head, and then turned to Katie, searching for the words. He didn't even have to ask. She opened her purse and handed him a rather large bottle of red polish. Mutt returned to the horse and carefully painted the horse's nose. Jase watched, his nose turning up and showing the growing curiosity, and then ran to his mom. "Mom, can I have some?" Kate pulled a second bottle from her purse and handed it to him. Jase ran up alongside Mutt, who pointed to the horse's hooves. Moments later, the two were on their knees, painting the horse's feet bright red.

I heard a faint whisper. Unless you become like one of these, you will not enter into heaven.

I looked at Katie and nodded at her purse. "Got any more in there?" She shook her head and smiled. "Sorry, all out."

Mutt handed the empty bottle back to Katie and then turned and scanned Waverly. He studied the house for several minutes, stuffed his hands back in his pockets, and walked hack to the barn. By the time I climbed the ladder into the loft, he had spread out a wool blanket and laid out his chess set on the hay next to him. He was almost asleep. The moon appeared early, filtered through the cracks in the holy wall, and shot across Mutt's pale face like prison bars. His eyelids were closed, and the veins around his eyes looked dark, deep, and throbbing.



Mutt looked dead. I leaned in and felt his breath on my face.

"I'm here," he whispered.

"Gibby told me you hit a nurse."

Mutt nodded.

"Did he deserve it?"

Mutt nodded again without explanation.

"I want you to make me a promise." Mutt's eyes turned toward me, bloodshot whites surrounding dilated emeralds. "I want you to promise me that you will tell me before you hit or hurt anybody."

Mutt thought for a minute, nodded a third time, and didn't question me. "You've never lied to me. Matthew Mason has never broken his word."

"Rain. Matthew Rain." I smiled. "Agreed?"

"Agreed." Mutt closed his eyes and crossed his hands over his stomach.

"Oh, and you're supposed to take these two pills." Mutt opened his mouth, I dropped in one of each, and he swallowed with little effort and breathed deeply, letting the smells of the blanket, the barn, the hay, and Glue fill his mind. I left the containers next to his pillow and said, "One of each, morning and night." Mutt nodded. He'd been through this drill before. "'Night, pal." Mutt blinked once, let his eyes fall closed, and moved not a finger, his stomach rising and falling with each deep, nostril-flared breath. Beneath the water tower, putrid water gushed out, turning the weeds and clay black. Beached tadpoles flopped, tossed, and struggled under the moonlight. Given the size of the tank, the water would run all night, well into tomorrow, and maybe even the next day before it was empty.



At 2:00 a.m. my cell phone rang. I pressed the "end" button like Bessie and her remote control. Three seconds later it rang again.

"Yes!"

"Tucker?"

"What?"

"This is Mutt."

"No kidding. What are you doing?"

"Well ..." He paused, evidently to look around. "I'm standing in the barn, next to the coffeemaker, talking on the phone that hangs on the wall near the bulletin board."

Maybe I shouldn't have asked such a concrete question. "Mutt ..." I rubbed my head and worked on the wording of my question. "Why are you calling me?"

"You know how when you picked me up today, I touched the door handle on your truck. Well, it's dirty. I'd like to clean it. Do we have any cleaning supplies?"