Wrapped in Rain(79)

I lay down next to him, back to back, my head nudging the squared base of the tree.

Good night, boys.

I closed my eyes and placed my hand across my tummy. Out of the darkness, I heard Mutt whisper, "Good night, Miss Ella." It was the same whisper I had heard a thousand times coming from the lower bunk every time she kissed us good night. The same whisper I had heard in the supply closet at the hospital. And the same whisper he spoke at her graveside. Salty tears welled up and rolled off my face, and once again, I drifted off, wrapped in the arms of Miss Ella Rain.





Chapter 33


LIFE AT WAVERLY WAS NEVER BEAUTIFUL. REX SAW TO that. We lived under a cloud that never disappeared, but although they are difficult to remember, there were days when a few rays broke through and shined on us. And on those days, I think Miss Ella had more to do with it than we gave her credit for at the time. I don't think she could stop the sun, but I think she redirected it a few times.

With the first rays of daylight, I woke and Mutt was gone. A light mist had settled in the trees and begun to generate rain.

When Mutt was about ten, he decided he would dig to China. He read in a science magazine that if you dug long enough and deep enough, you'd eventually hit the feet of people in China. Mutt cut out the article and hung it on the wall, and since Rex had already given him a good start with the quarry, Mutt opted to piggyback on that. He bought a wheelbarrow full of tools and spent about three weeks during the summer digging a sideways tunnel midway down into the quarry. His plan was to dig around the rock and then sink a shaft straight to China. With every linear foot, he'd drill in support trusses, and he even ran a string of lights and a few fans to bring in air. Miss Ella sent me to check on him every night at dinnertime, and I grew more amazed every day.

I secretly hoped he'd hit gold so we could retire Miss Ella and tell Rex to take a hike. He didn't and we never had the pleasure, but Mutt did keep digging and drilling, making it about thirty feet sideways before he got waylaid by school. He promised to come back to it, but by the time next summer rolled around, Mutt had read another article that disputed the claims of the first, stating that, in fact, he'd end up in some place like Australia or Spain but not before the core of the earth incinerated him. Mutt had his heart set on China, so with that no longer possible, he gravitated toward other pursuits.



I rolled up his sleeping bag and followed Mutt's footprints to the quarry. I stood on the ledge and saw that he had already repaired the zip lines. New cable, new handles, the things were slicker than wet ice on wet ice and looked inviting. Below me, coming from his miner's tunnel, I heard what sounded like a pick and shovel, though there was no rhythm. It sounded more like tinkering than digging.

I climbed down to the tunnel, stepped sideways along the side wall, and ducked my head into the tunnel. Via a series of mirrors, light from a single bulb lit the entire shaft. The shaft was warm; Mutt had a heater plugged in somewhere and a fan drew air inside the tunnel. Mutt had his shirt off and was sweating pretty good, ridding himself of both toxins and drugs. It looked like he was starting to get his strength back.

"Good morning," I said.

Mutt looked up, said nothing, and kept picking at the ground with his pick.

"You okay?"

Mutt looked around as if I had spoken to someone else.

I made eye contact and said it again. "You okay?"

He nodded and dug the pick into some soft earth. I walked around the light, not casting a shadow on his work. "What're you doing?"

Mutt looked around, behind me, underneath the tip of his pick, and then fumbled with his hands, which were dirty. "Looking for me." Mutt sunk his pick, hit something hard, dropped to his knees, and dug around it with a rounded and rusty shovel. Unearthing a fist-size piece of quartz, he threw it aside and squatted on his heels. "This was just about the last place I remember being me, so I'm looking for him." He handed me the shovel. "You want to help?"



"No ... no.,, I pointed out the tunnel toward Waverly. "I need to check on Glue and Katie and Jase. You know." Mutt nodded. He was agreeable either way. "You be up for lunch?" Mutt nodded and used his forearm to wipe the sweat off his brow.

I walked out of the tunnel and thought, despite Mutt's mental capacity at the moment, his physical condition looked pretty good. Almost as good as I remember. If we got into a wrestling match, chances were good that he'd win.

I climbed out of the quarry, pulled my collar up to shed the rain off my neck, and wove a path through the pines, up to the pasture. Mose had connected the disc and plowed several acres late yesterday, turning up the soil and sending the fresh, pungent scent of manure mixed with hay, black organic dirt, and diesel wafting on the air currents. I walked out beneath the pines, and the rain began to fall again-a light rain. It was perfect.

I shoved my hands in my pockets to guard against the cold and walked out into the soft, plowed field. If the rain kept up, I'd be sure to find a few.

I walked over the soft dirt, neck bent, eyes focused on the dirt, like I was combing the beach during a rising tide. Thirty minutes later, I had a handful. Some good pieces too. Katie saw me walking circles in the field and came running with an umbrella. "What're you doing? Searching for sharks' teeth?"

"In a way, I suppose." I held out my hand and showed her the dozen or so arrowheads and pottery shards I had discovered.