LEE ANN LEFT WORK AT noon to meet Mother’s case-worker, Annette, for the quarterly documentation of the state agency’s services. Working around rules that specified Do Not Tip Caregivers, she found other ways of showing appreciation for the women who drove the long miles to Alibi Creek. Today, a Mr. Coffee 12-cup coffee maker needed a home, if not with Annette, then some other staff member. She placed the box on the front seat and waved good-bye until her arm grew heavy and fell to her side.
The file on Mother’s progress reported, “status unchanged.” There’d come a time when that phrase would be replaced by “oxygen required,” or “full time nursing care advised.” Not only Mother, but Edgar, who’d been around since before Lee Ann was born, would be needing assistance soon enough. He’d taken to sleeping past nine, and although he never complained, his bad hip and twisted fingers prevented him from riding, or tying a knot. She’d taken to sending beans and chile over to the bunkhouse once a week and for a man who insisted on attending to all his own needs, his humble acceptance of the gesture signaled his decline. Within the year he’d quit driving, his eyesight failing as fast as his hearing.
She went inside for a sweater, called the dogs, and whistling the theme from The Bridge on the River Kwai, started off to the creek. Before taking thirty steps, the one-ton truck emerged from behind the workshop. She herded the dogs off to the side.
Dee pulled up and rolled down the window.
“I’m off to Plank’s,” he said. “Scott and Walker are already over there.”
She brushed her hair back from her face, searching his eyes.
“You don’t know,” he said, shifting into neutral.
“I guess not.”
“We’re moving Danielle’s trailer up the canyon behind Granny’s. Walker told us to use the cinderblocks from beside the barn for supports. We’ve been working at Plank’s all morning getting it loaded on the flatbed.” He put the truck in gear and revved the engine. “See you later.”
The dogs sat at her feet, tails wagging, waiting for the go-ahead. A scheme, this time involving Danielle. The only thing Danielle and Walker ever saw eye-to-eye on was a bottle of whiskey. If they couldn’t find a party they’d make their own, which would invariably end in a fight they’d forget the next morning, then start all over again.
Along the creek bank, Patch and Blue picked up a scent in a pile of brush and began digging. Leaves landed like bits of paper on the water and swam downstream, catching on logs reaching out to snag them. She knelt and broke a twig in two, tossed one half in the water and followed its journey, the little stick incapable of turning back, powerless against the current. Tears filled her eyes, as if the twig was a living creature, robbed of free will, ignorant of rational thought or heart’s desire.
“Lord, it seems we are helpless against an invisible current. This must be the great lesson we are meant to learn—to accept our fate with humility and grace. I trust You have a plan beyond my understanding, but I struggle to identify my purpose and determine when to assert myself. I question whether submission and resignation make me weak or strong. If we encounter an eddy drawing us to danger, free will allows us to decide whether to jump into the whirlpool or flee. I lack the drive, or courage, to go against the current when circumstances demand I should. I’m confused about when to take matters into my own hands. I submit to You out of fear of making a mistake. I dare not oppose Your wishes.”
The twig floated downstream, undeterred.
“Walker rushes through life at a pace I can never match, driven by impulses I don’t understand. Gone for whole days at a time, sharing details when it suits him, his pickup parked at Mother’s when I leave for work, gone when I get home. Eugene insists I set limits, but You’ve created Walker untamable, uncontrollable, unteachable. I pray for him, for all things are solved through prayer. I try to forgive, as You advise.”
The wind picked up and she wrapped her sweater around her chest and hugged her waist. During the first months of Walker’s incarceration, she’d continued to hear his footsteps sneaking up from behind, until one afternoon, while planting petunias in the two oak barrels on either side of the front porch, she hummed while watering. Weeks went by, and she began moving easier, touching the fragile roots of the starts she set out, watching the clothes on the line dance in the wind, mimicking the crossbill finches on the garden fence, without worrying about what was behind her back. His return had tightened her stomach. Anxiety had raised her shoulders and stiffened her neck.
She dropped the other half of the twig into the creek and turned her back on its voyage. Whatever one is, he has been named already, for it is known that he is man; And he cannot contend with Him who is mightier than he. Ecclesiastes 6:10.
Back at the house, she traded her sweater for a jacket and drove the Blazer to the corral while Patch and Blue, still eager to play, raced alongside. Twisting the hair at the nape of her neck, in a steady voice she told Eugene about the plan to move Danielle’s trailer up the canyon. He’d never met Danielle, but had heard plenty.
Eugene continued measuring the corral fence, jotting figures down on a legal pad.
“I’m sure she’s different now,” Lee Ann said. “She’s got a job at the motel. I’ve bumped into her a couple of times in town and she’s been pleasant enough.”
Eugene tossed the tape measure and pad into the diesel and without a word took off, leaning across the seat, reaching into the glove box. Lee Ann released the curl at her neck and gripped her shoulder. Eugene always said hasty reactions made things worse. He always said, “I’ll think about it,” when Scott sought permission, “Give me a minute,” when Dee asked a question, and “Let’s consider all the options,” before making decisions.
His truck splashed across the creek, climbed the incline, and stopped.
She drove back to the house and from the kitchen window, aimed the binoculars toward the highway. Eugene had retrieved a chain and padlock from the glove box and was locking the gate. That gate hadn’t been locked in thirty years. She drove to the turn-around at the bottom of the incline and with a clear view of the road, Eugene, and the gate, eased her hands from the steering wheel and turned off the ignition.
A half hour later, the one-ton pulling Danielle’s trailer stopped at the gate, Scott’s pickup close behind. Walker jumped out of the one-ton and yanked on the lock. “What the hell…”
Eugene got out of the diesel. “Take that trailer back where you got it.”
Walker slapped his hands against his thighs. “We’re moving it up the canyon.”
“No, you’re not.”
“We been workin’ all day to get it over here.”
Eugene stepped close enough to be clearly heard, far enough to keep out of trouble.
“I don’t give a damn how long you’ve been working. It has no place anywhere on this property.”
“Look, man,” Walker said. “It’s temporary. Just till I sell it.” He jiggled the gate, did a little fast stepping, hands on his hips. “You know me. I can turn anything over in ten minutes flat, if not before. Soon as I hit the bar this item will be sold. Guaranteed.”
“Then park it in Brand.”
“I can’t take it to town without you opening this here gate so I can get the blocks to set it on.”
Eugene called to Scott and Dee. “You ought to know better.”
“Open up, or I’ll have to leave the damn thing out on the highway,” Walker said.
“Do what you want, only don’t set it on this property.”
Walker beat his chest.
“It’s my property, too.”
“It’s your mother’s.”
Lee Ann slammed the door of the Blazer and walked quickly to Eugene’s side.
“Walker, you’re overstepping the line. Had we discussed this, you’d know we do not want this trailer in the canyon. It’s your business if you want to sell it or trade it, but you can’t do it from here. It doesn’t even belong to you.”
Walker stuck his hands in his back pockets.
“Yes, it does,” he said. “It’s my wife’s.”