Chapter Nineteen #2
Immediately they both looked distracted by the different subjects he’d thrown at them. He knew from his own experiences that
having something else to think about was a relief. Logically taking the dog in to look around wouldn’t change a damn thing,
but the Livingstons were too emotional right now to think logically.
Mary Alice brightened. “Yes, let the dog look around. What’s his name?”
“I haven’t named him. I thought I’d let you do it.” That was a giant distraction.
Her eyes widened and she looked at the dog with something approaching joy. “I get to name him? Oh my! That’s a big responsibility,
isn’t it, boy? That’s a good boy, yes you are.” She punctuated her words with scratches behind the dog’s ears, who was properly
ecstatic.
Ben whistled the dog over. “Is the house unlocked?” he asked.
Both of the Livingstons looked taken aback, because obviously that hadn’t occurred to them. “It is,” their neighbor affirmed,
and went inside with Ben and the dog.
Ben didn’t do anything specific, just let the dog run around inside and sniff at everything, let it get accustomed, and also
to get his own scent in the house so the dog wouldn’t feel abandoned. He looked in the kitchen where the shooting had happened,
and while they were waiting for the dog to explore, he and the neighbor talked about what had happened at Sela’s store, about
the gas—the neighbor had filled his car and also a couple of storage cans—about how hard Mary Alice had been taking everything.
She didn’t feel her home was safe any longer; she’d lost her place of refuge.
Ben had thought of a lot of things when he’d gone back to his place hours ago to get the dog and the parts to get the suction
pump going. He hadn’t known Mary Alice and Jim hadn’t been able to go back into their house, but he knew how people reacted
to trauma, and he knew to change the environment. That’s what he himself had done, an insight that struck him only now, for
the first time. He’d come to these mountains, isolated himself after living for years as part of a team, and set about making
himself as self-sufficient, and self-contained, as possible. Mountain living was different. The effort required to become self-sufficient had been the means he’d used to distract himself, to get him to the point where he could . . . where he could
begin healing.
He hadn’t thought of himself as wounded. He’d thought of himself as fed up. It wasn’t until he became able to tolerate more
contact with people that he could begin to see where he’d been and how far he’d come.
Sela. She’d been the lure that had brought him out of the cave, the same way he was using the dog to bring the Livingstons out
of their cave. The comparison amused him, though he didn’t know if he’d tell her that. Her gentleness was what he’d noticed
first about her, and he’d wanted to protect that, keep it untarnished; telling her something that might embarrass her wasn’t
the way to do that, though he suspected she might think it was funny. Maybe one day in the future he’d tell her.
“Whaddaya think?” the neighbor asked, jerking him out of his thoughts.
He had no idea what the guy had said, so he shrugged. “I think we need to get the generator out of the truck and fired up,
get these folks some heat. They can’t live in a house this cold.”
“They’re welcome to stay with us, but they want their own space and at the same time Mary Alice has been afraid to come back.
How you gonna work this?”
“The dog,” Ben replied, and went back outside with the dog following on his heels.
“Have you thought of a name yet?” he asked Mary Alice as they pulled the generator out of the back of the truck.
Of course the dog had dashed back over to her for more ear scratching and belly rubs, and it was rubbing against her legs
in a frenzy of affection. She actually blushed. “I think Sajack,” she said. “I like— I used to like watching Wheel of Fortune.”
“Sajack’s a good name,” Ben said. “Listen. Do you think you could take care of him? I’m out away from the house a lot, and
the boy needs more company than I can give him. With him in the house, no one else would be able to sneak in, and mountain
curs are quiet and protective dogs.”
Her face lit up. Watching his wife, Jim seemed to catch on. “I’d like having a dog around,” he said slowly. “I’ve missed having
one. But how will we feed him? We’re having trouble feeding ourselves.”
“I’ll hunt for you.” Ben made the offer with a sense of resignation, because he’d already known he’d have to do it. “I brought
some food, his blanket and bowls, and the rope I use for his leash. His collar is pretty ratty, sorry.”
“I can make a collar for him from one of my old belts,” Jim said, beginning to smile himself as he looked at the dog. He squatted
down and patted his thigh. “C’mon, Sajack, come let Pops pet on you.”
Obligingly the dog bounded toward the obvious invitation, and Mary Alice came with him.
While the old couple was bonding with the dog, Ben and the neighbor took the generator to the house and got the electric heat
pump running. That done, Ben retrieved the food and the dog’s things—which included his old shoe—and took them in. Seeing
the shoe, the dog raced after him into the house, wanting his toy. Jim followed, and, somewhat reluctantly, so did Mary Alice.
Ben saw the alarmed look she cast toward the kitchen, then the dog pounced on the shoe and began shaking it from side to side
and a smile wreathed her face as she watched him.
Making another trip to the truck, Ben brought in a kerosene heater and an extra can of kerosene. “After the generator gets
the house warm, use the heater to keep it that way, at least until Sela can get some braziers made.” He had no doubt she’d
manage it, somehow, if there was a kiln anywhere in walking distance. He looked around. “I think that’s it. I have another
stop to make, so I’ll be going.”
Jim approached with his hand held out. “Son, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for us.” He nodded toward Mary
Alice. “This makes all the difference.”
Ben shook the gnarled, bony hand, still vaguely surprised to be touching someone voluntarily.
The sun was getting low, the long day almost gone. He was hungry and tired, and that was the least of it. Part of him, if
he lived to be a hundred, would never recover from how he’d felt when he’d been racing down the mountain in the dark, terrified
that he’d find Sela dead in that store over some fucking gas and knowing he’d never forgive himself for not thinking ahead and knowing there was a slim window of opportunity for stealing
it.
Talk about a moment of clarification. He’d known then that if she was just okay, dear God please let her be okay, he’d be
rethinking what he’d planned for the rest of his life. In those plans, he’d been alone. For the first time in what felt like
forever, he hoped he wasn’t alone, hoped he could handle the transition.
He was also inordinately proud of how she’d handled herself—with nothing more than a tin can plinker to hold off the thieves—but
she’d probably never see herself as anything special. She would prefer working behind the scenes rather than putting herself
out there, but when the occasion called for drastic measures she did what she had to do. He saw her as special, though, and that was what counted.
He never wanted to spend another ten terrible minutes wondering if she was dead. Everything had crystallized inside him during
that short time, letting him see clearly what was important and what he could put aside.
All he wanted now was to see her.
Well, that wasn’t all he wanted, but just seeing her would make him feel better.
He began driving to her house, but when he passed her aunt’s yellow house he saw her white Honda there and whipped his truck
into the driveway. He knew he’d be walking into a house full of women and he might feel trapped, but he’d have to tough it
out. Before he got out of the truck he picked up a can of the food he’d had the foresight to bring with him, and put it in
his coat pocket.
As he got out of the truck he looked around, paying attention to the sky, which had been sunny earlier but in the last hour
a low, lead-colored cloud cover had moved in, and the temperature had taken a decided dip. Snow, he thought. Maybe not much, given it was still early in the season, but the weather had to turn sometime and he was betting
on tonight.
He went up on the porch and knocked. In a few short seconds Sela’s face appeared in one of the panes in the door, and she
opened it. “How did it go today?” Guilt crossed her face. “I meant to get back over there but I slept too long, and when I
did go, everyone was gone. Who boarded up the windows? Thank you.”
She stepped back to let him enter, and closed the door behind him. He’d been right: he did feel better just seeing her, being with her. He liked how she’d immediately jumped to the conclusion that he’d been the one
who boarded up the windows. “Some guy named Bob Terrell had some plywood to donate. He and Trey Foster helped. I didn’t expect
you to come back over there anyway, you were wiped out.” The warmth of the house, and the smell of food cooking, enveloped
him like a hug. How could he have forgotten? There was something about women, the way they took a space and without thinking
made it into something softer and more comfortable.
Olivia sat on the couch, her eyes big with curiosity as she watched them, and a short, white-haired woman was stirring something
in a pot set over the fire in the fireplace. Sela said, “You know Olivia. Barb, this is Ben Jernigan. Ben, our friend Barb
Finley. She’s living here for the duration.”
“Who’s there?” someone called from another room.
Sela paused, gave a subtle cast of her eyes heavenward, and called, “Ben Jernigan.” Then she closed her eyes and seemed to
be waiting for something.
“What? Stud Muffin Hardbody is here?”
“She’s on pain pills,” she murmured to him, her cheeks heating. “We got her in the shower today, and had to give her an extra