Amateur Hour

He did not wake up, when she came in, nor when she turned off the light. It was the sudden silence of the TV that woke him.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized.

“You should be, you sneaky little baggage,” he smiled, sleepily.

“Baggage? That’s a dated insult,” she laughed.

“I suppose it is,” he agreed sitting up, and yawning.

“Go back to sleep, Deputy. I’ll see you, in the morning.”

“Yes, you will.”

She went to put the remote on the night table, only to let out a startled squeal as he grabbed her arm. He pulled her down next to him and kissed her soundly.

“I missed you,” he said.

“For a whole hour?”

“Hour and fifteen minutes. How was your class?”

“Very interesting. I liked it.”

There was no lie in her face or voice. She didn’t smell of alcohol and mints, as if she had met someone for drinks, and was trying to hide the fact. Nor did she smell like she had just gotten out of a hasty shower. Her hair wasn’t suspiciously neat, and it was dry as a bone. She’d had coffee, recently, but she might have stopped for that, on her way back to the motel.

“You’re studying me, Deputy. Am I a suspect?” She was smiling at him, bemusedly.

“No,” Tuck managed a short laugh. He was ashamed of himself. “I’m just still half asleep. Take off your jacket and stay a while,” he invited.

“I think you should probably get some rest. You had a rough day.”

“It’s nine-thirty. Shank of the evening.”

“And I have some reading to do.”

“Is your next class tomorrow?”

“No, but—“

“Then it can wait a bit, can’t it?”

“I don’t want to wait,” she frowned.

“You can read here, can’t you? I’ll sit over here, and keep on shopping for cameras, and you can do your homework.”

“Why are you… pushing, so hard?” she demanded.

“Why are you resisting so hard?” he countered. “Last night, nothing would do but that I stay. I guess I’m confused by the one-eighty turn. Are you afraid of me, now?”

“No! I’m not. Did I mention that this was a Bible class? Maybe I need some privacy, to study, without you getting all…butthurt!”

“That’s fair. I suppose I am butthurt, at that. Considering that you’ll take Will into your confidence, but not me.”

He could almost hear the gears spinning in her head, as she stared at him. She wasn’t concocting a lie. She was making a decision.

“Fine,” she growled. “Will is my sponsor. I went to my first pre baptism class, tonight. Satisfied?”

Of all the things he could have imagined, this one would never have occurred to him. It made complete sense. Who but Will would have been a logical choice? The boy had a gift for keeping his mouth shut, and he was a gentle, non-judgmental soul.

“Why didn’t you just say so? What’s with the cloak and dagger routine?”

“It’s just…very personal.”

“Okay. I get that. The crazy shit I was thinking, though! I had myself half believing that you and Will were… Well, up to no good.”

Lisa stared at him for a moment, mouth agape. Then, she laughed. She laughed until her eyes teared.

Tuck colored. “Cut it out,” he scowled in mock reproof. “I’m properly embarrassed and ashamed of myself, yes.”

Still, it was a minute or two, before she could get herself under control.

“I just didn’t want to get your hopes up, in case… In case I turn out to be too proud or arrogant, or…basically sinful, to go through with it. I don’t blame you, for not understanding that.”

“Because I’m so perfect?” he gave her a lopsided smile. “Not even close, little love.”

“So I see, now.” The giggles were threatening to return, and she folded her lips under her teeth. “No—because you were brought up, in the church. It’s all second nature to you.” She sighed, and shrugged out of her jacket.

“As if there haven’t been times I was tempted to walk away, because of my own failures. Everyone has their own journey, Lisa. You picked a good guide, for yours. Will is very mature, in his faith.”

“I thought so.” She patted his knee, rose, snagged her case that usually held her computer, and seated herself calmly at the table.

Tuck watched as she pulled from the case a paperback Book of Common Prayer, an old Bible that had somehow never been used, and a sheaf of worksheets. After a little digging, she found a pen.

“Don’t you have some shopping, to do?” she asked, when she caught him gazing.

“I sure do,” he confirmed, taking up his laptop. You’re such a worm, Noah, he thought.

*********************************************

Tuck had parted company with Lisa and Will at the front door of the rectory, the next morning, after advising them to lock the door behind them.

“Do not let me in, even if I’m bleeding,” he had told them. “If I get cold, or have to wait a while, I can sit in the truck or in the sanctuary.”

“What makes you so sure Noah won’t just decide to leap into Will, or me, for that matter?” Lisa had asked.

“He doesn’t like you, Darlin’.” It had come out flatter than Tuck had intended, but there was no softening it or retracting it, once it was said. “As for Will, he doesn’t have as many interesting buttons to push. I’m arrogant. Will isn’t. I have a temper. Will doesn’t. I’m more capable of violence, than Will, and more prone to it.”

Will had nodded at this assessment, but Lisa wasn’t buying it.

“I’ve never seen you—“

“No, you’ve never seen me. That doesn’t mean I’ve never beaten someone like a pinata, for resisting arrest, after they threw the first punch, does it? It doesn’t mean I’ve never waded into a bar brawl and caused some damage, breaking it up, either.”

“Or bludgeoned a coyote to death, when it cornered Toni in a goat pen,” Will had added, with a small grin. “I didn’t see that one, myself, but I did see the aftermath. It was messy. The remains were sort of coyote shaped, anyway.”

“The point is,” he had continued, “the muscle has been flexed. Lock the door.” With that, he had shouldered his shovel, and set off for the cemetery.

Now, as he trudged toward the known clutch of Lovejoy graves, he prayed he had been right. With his right hand, he reached into his jacket pocket for his bad luck charm—Noah’s fake gold pocket watch. He didn’t know if Noah had been much attached to the object, but it did feel cold, even in the grasp of his gloved hand.

“I’m not sure I like his state of mind,” Lisa said, as they watched him disappear around the corner of the rectory. “He’s being awfully hard on himself.”

“No,” Will replied. “He knows himself, that’s all.”

“You’d have done the same thing, in the case of the coyote,” Lisa remarked as she unlocked and opened the front door.

“Absolutely, if I had been there. The animal wasn’t after a goat. It was after Toni—rabid, as it turned out. I’d have pounded it into a pulp.”

“So, what’s the difference?” she asked, as they shook out fresh coveralls, and began to suit up.

“The difference is that he’s flexed the muscle more than I have. Pa and I aren’t built the same. I’ll defend my own, but other fools can sort themselves out, if they’re bent on being fools. I’m glad he’s getting out of that mess.”

Once dressed, they made their way to the bedroom. The cellar had been left open, and the ladder was still in place. Will descended first.

“I’ll get the lights,” he said, when Lisa was safely down.

Everything was as they had left it. Whatever part of Noah’s energy that stayed behind with his bones had decided not to have a tantrum.

It took less than an hour to remove the remainder of the bones from the cedar chest, down to the last fragment of the shattered leg bone, leaving behind a flattened lead ball, presumably the cause of the wound; a bloodstain beneath the place where the leg had been, and a few wisps of the rope that had bound his hands, clinging to a nail.

Will picked up the older of the two mauls, and handed it to Lisa.

“Do you want to go first, or should I?” he asked. His voice was muffled by the mask, but his eyes were mischievous.

“You, I think. I barely know which end of this thing to hold.”

“You’ll love it. It’s very therapeutic.” Will picked a spot at the end, squared his stance, and brought the maul high over his head. It came down so hard and fast, that Lisa jumped. The wood was so old and brittle that he had no need to rock the end of the tool, to loosen the blade. The blow nearly broke the top board, in half. “Now, you. Give it a good whack.”

Lisa did. Her blow didn’t cause nearly as much damage as Will’s had, but it was satisfactory.

******************************************

Finding Beatrice’s grave had been too easy, and Tuck had felt some regret at his success. He had hoped against hope that he could avoid burying Noah’s remains next to her. Yet, it had been clearly marked with a rounded headstone engraved with a cross and roses.

Reluctantly, Tuck had begun to dig a squared off hole, next her grave. The ground wasn’t frozen, but it wasn’t soft, either, and the going was hard. More than once, he had to stop and pry a large rock from the ground, and toss it aside. Why hadn’t he brought a pick, as well, he wondered. Occasionally, he would check in with himself, to see whether or not Noah was still with him. Each time he found that, yes, Noah was still coiled like a snake, in his gut.

With another foot left to go, in depth, Tuck stopped to fling off his jacket. The bite of the cool air felt good against his sweating body, but he wished he had thought to bring something drink.

The end result was a neat hole, two and a half feet deep, with straight sides and nearly squared corners—the best he could do with the kind of hand shovel he had. Tuck jammed the spade into the mound of dirt he had made, put his jacket back on, and walked away.

He was damned thirsty. There was bottled water in the cooler on the back of Will’s truck. He’d grab a bottle, and sit in the church for a while. He had a bone to pick with Gerald Lovejoy.

******************************************

Lisa was amazed at how little time it took to break up the cedar chest, though she had to wonder if Will might not have been able to accomplish the task faster, on his own. They had alternated blows on the old wood, Will’s practiced and devastating, hers weaker and inexperienced, but the job got done.

“I think I lost twenty pounds,” she panted, when they stood over their pile of kindling, at last.

Will pretended to scan her. “Five, tops. I’d say half of it water, that you should replace. Let’s get started on that.” He relieved her of her maul, and headed toward the ladder, carrying both. “Go ahead,” he nodded. “I’ll hand these up, to you.”

“Would you rather have water from the tap?” Lisa asked, when Will climbed up after her.

“Let’s just use the water we brought. We can sit out on the tailgate, and not worry about breaking any of your glasses. I could do with some fresh air.”

Lisa nodded in agreement.

As they stepped out the front door, Tuck caught sight of them and waved, before entering the church.

“I feel so bad, for him,” Lisa sighed, following Will to the back of the truck.

“It’s what he wants, and he’s right.”

“He could take a break with us.”

“If he wants to, he will.” Will hopped up on the tailgate of the truck, opened the cooler and handed her a bottle of water, before helping himself to one. “I don’t think you need to worry, Lisa. I know that won’t stop you, though.”

“No,” she admitted. “Did you have any trouble explaining your whereabouts to Toni, last night?” she asked, changing the subject.

“None. Toni’s not the suspicious type. I’ve never given her any reason to be. Why? Did Pa give you the third degree?”

“He did, and I confessed all.”

“That’s for the best, most likely,” He smiled at her.

“It occurred to me that it was a little narcissistic to want to surprise him.”

“That’s growth,” his smile broadened.

“He said he thought you were a very good guide, for the journey, by the way.”

“Did he?” Will was pleased. “That’s one of the nicest compliments I’ve gotten from him, second hand.”

“He teases you a lot, doesn’t he?”

“Just his way of showing regard. When I first met him, he was a little too nice. The first time he said something mildly rude to me, I knew I had arrived. When he pinned the nickname ‘Jethro’ on me, I knew he liked me, for my own sake, and not just for Toni’s.”

*************************************************

Tuck settled quietly onto a bench, and sipped his water. It was becoming easier to think of the pews as being merely benches, yet the building, even with its fresh white paint, still held a church like atmosphere. He supposed it always would. It wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to picture shelves of books, browsing patrons, and the scent of coffee here, however. Long ago, it might have given him a slight pang, but now, it didn’t.

“It doesn’t trouble me a bit, either,” the Judge said. “I quite like the idea, now.”

“Who are you spending eternity with, Judge? Beatrice, or Margaret?” Tuck asked his deceased ancestor, as the ghost settled next to him.

“Why, both, of course. Dealing with Noah has made you sharp tongued, Grandson.”

“It’s made me downright rude.”

“He had that effect on a lot of people,” Gerald acknowledged. “It wasn’t always so. Noah was… He was like you, until he curdled. He was very sunny and charming, when he was a boy. If he hadn’t soured, he would have been very like you, I imagine. That’s why he can and does cling to you so tightly.”

“You did warn me, not to become his vehicle.” Tuck rubbed at his stomach, unconsciously.

“I did, but maybe it was inevitable. Is that where he’s settled? In your stomach?” the Judge nodded toward Tuck’s hand.

“Like poison. Like something I want to sick up, but can’t.”

The Judge nodded.

“What…happened to him?” Tuck asked, forcing his hand down.

“There’s no simple answer to that.” Gerald paused, gathering his thoughts. “When he and Jem came to live among us, they were both so pleased to have a father, again. And, make no mistake, my father had a great affection for both boys. I was already considered a man grown, and my relationship with my father was not unlike yours with young Will.

“The boys were still just children, though. Father’s preference was always for Jem. Not a marked preference, you understand, but it was perceptible. Noah was… He was a pleasant boy. Everyone liked him, including his new sisters. I liked him well enough, for all that I noticed him, which was very little. I had already begun to read law, and think thoughts of finding a wife.

“Anyway, Jeremiah required a firmer hand than his brother. He wasn’t bad or unkind, but he could be reckless; a bit thoughtless. I think my father had a sneaking admiration for that. He liked his spirit, and his boldness.”

“Didn’t you say once that Noah was a rebel, in every sense of the word?” Tuck frowned.

“That happened, later. With Father, he was obedient, pliant and eager to please. The shock of losing another father was too much for him, I think. He never would accept my authority, or take my advice, even though it was kindly meant. He became bitter, jealous of affections that others had, for one another. Jealous of possessions. Jealous of status. He also became spiteful.” Gerald shook his head with a look of regret.

“But, when he wronged you, you wronged him back.” Tuck pointed out.

“I did, yes. And I paid the price for it, twice over. I lost Beatrice, and I lost my own life. Thrice over, if you count the fact that he ended up in possession of my sons. I was human, Tucker. My blood was as warm as yours; my sense of what was just and unjust was as strong, and sometimes, I was impulsive.”

“What about Margaret? Did she ever know?”

“She knew. She knew it all. Margaret was more angel than human. She loved me, and she loved Beatrice, like a sister. You’ll probably never meet her like, on your side of existence. They are rarer than Benitoite and as priceless. The three of us had no secrets.”

“She sounds perfect,” Tuck remarked dryly.

“In her way, she was. But, perfection can be terrible, too. Noah found that out. Perfection can be deadly.”

**************************************************

Will climbed halfway up the ladder, and handed the last of the contractor bags with the broken pieces of the chest up to Lisa, before climbing the rest of the way out, himself. She set it with the other five that she had placed against the wall nearest the door, then turned back to face him. She looked tired, half to death, and he had to wonder yet again why the rectory and the cellar seemed to have no effect on him, at all.

He felt fine; no more tired than he would feel under normal circumstances, had he done the same amount of physical labor in his own backyard. Looking at her, and at his father-in-law over the past weeks, Will was grateful that he was “built different”.

He was more emotionally invested in the people in his own life, he guessed, than he was in people in the next. Oh, the sight of the Judge’s body had rocked him, he couldn’t deny that, but he felt little to nothing for Noah. As for the vibes in the rectory, he seemed immune.

“A good day’s work,” he smiled at her. “I’ll load these into the truck, and we can burn them, at home.”

Lisa nodded, and reached for the two bags nearest her. They weren’t particularly heavy, which had been the point. Will hadn’t wanted to risk her balance by having her lift too much weight while dangling over a hole in the bedroom floor.

“I’ll get them,” he repeated. “You round up Pa.”

“It’ll go faster, if I help. You did most of the breaking up.”

He could see there was no point in arguing, so he contented himself with taking the bags that looked heaviest. “So, how are you and the old man doing, over at the motel?” he asked. “Got everything you need, over there?”

“It’s been fine, really. I think he misses being at home, a little.”

“Maybe you should think about coming back.”

“He won’t. Not while Toni could be in jeopardy.”

“Toni has me—and you. Noah can’t be in any doubt, now, that you’ll go for the pepper spray,” he laughed.

“I can’t understand why you find the pepper spray incident so funny.”

They paused by the back of the pickup, and Will relieved her of her bags, to toss them into the bed.

“Just surprised me, I guess. I’m pretty sure I could have handled Noah, if he’d taken a swing. But, no—tiny Miss Lisa saves the day.”

“Bruised ego, Will?”

“Hardly. More like a rueful observation. I respect your impulse, and admire your follow through. It is a little sad, though, that you felt the need to defend me, of all people.”

Lisa’s jaw clenched slightly, and he watched her out of the corner of his eye, as he tossed his own bags in.

“You don’t have to weigh your words,” he continued. “Trust me.”

“Okay. Why is it ‘sad’?” she challenged.

“Because someone, somewhere, didn’t defend you, when you could have used his help. Sure, you can protect yourself. It’s just sad that you feel you have to, and to take up for everyone else, too.”

“And the battle of the sexes rages on.” She sounded sick of the whole thing.

“Not with me. I’m on your side. You didn’t make the world what it is. You know what the rules should be, but since they aren’t what they should be, you play by the ones you’re given. You win, too.”

“We can’t all be like Toni,” Lisa observed.

He could see she regretted it, the second it was out of her mouth.

“No,” he agreed. He reached out to gently draw her back toward the house. “Toni always has been pretty sheltered.”

“I didn’t mean—“

“No, I get it. If you said the same thing to her, Toni would get it. She’s had advantages. But, she’s not the worse, for them.”

“It was envy talking, Will. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. You’re a fine person, Lisa—just as you are. Wanting to be better, already makes you better. But, I insist on carrying two of those three bags, in there.”