Ghosts of Black Bear Mountain, page 16
part #1 of Middwood Series
He swept. "What about after school and before school?"
"I'm Mr. Christian to you every hour of the day."
"Okay, okay, I just thought I'd ask." He paused. "Don't your friends call you Matt?"
"Of course, they do."
"Do you have a lot of friends?"
I tried to focus on writing my questions. "I used to. Why are you so curious?"
He opened the door and swept his pile into the yard. "Don't you ever get curious?"
"Of course, I do."
"Aren't you curious about why the town is so strange."
He was setting me up for something. "No. Franklin told me everything I needed to know."
"You sure?"
"Yes. Don't leave all that on the steps. Sweep it off or it will just get tracked back in here."
He moved outside the door, and I heard the bristles brush against the steps. He stepped back inside. "I don't really have any friends."
I shot him a glance. "I'm sure you do."
"Nope. People here don't really talk to me."
I grinned. "Is that why you run through the night scaring people?"
He lifted his chin and stomped his foot on every word. "I swear that wasn't me."
My eyes widened at his dramatics. "Wow, I hope I don't have to pay for that performance."
"It wasn't."
"Great." I turned and judged the floor. He had done a good job. "Want to pass out the science books?"
He didn't say anything, but he moved to the back table and began putting the books on the desks. An emptiness came over me. There was something more. "Is everything's okay, Peter?"
He shrugged. "Yes. I just wanted to talk to someone is all."
I looked at him in disbelief. "So you came to talk to me?"
"Yeah. Is that okay?"
Trying to hide my apprehension, I said, "I guess so, yes."
"Good." He walked over to my desk. "Here's a little something for your lunch. Since you said you don't cook. My mom made stew last night. I’ll light the stove and if you put it on the coal stove, it'll be warmed up by lunchtime."
I regarded the bowl with a slightly hollow feeling in my chest. "Thank you. That was considerate. Tell your mother I said thank you."
"I'm the one that asked if I could bring it in."
"Thanks to the both of you, then." I grinned and took a breath. "To be honest, I didn't bring anything."
"No biscuits?" He laughed.
"None."
I joined in his laughter. I continued writing on the board, and he finished putting the science books on the desks.
"Science is the devil," shouted Jason, ringing in the two o'clock hour.
"Well, then we won't worship it, we’ll just study it," I said with a flippant smile.
That shut him up. We had forty-three minutes to go before we were free, but the students had been fighting me every step of the way. There weren't many kids I disliked, but Jason was one of those kids you wished you could feed to the wolves.
Of course, they thought science was the devil. I bet whoever controlled the mines told them all that so that they wouldn't ask questions about why the grass and trees were all dead and why the water smelled and tasted like shit.
I rubbed my hands over my hair. Everything was starting to get to me. It wasn't just the kids and my lack of sleep. It was the whole “town rules” thing. I checked my shirt pocket, but, other than my nipple, there was nothing there. I had taken that pill hours ago. "Damn," I whispered.
On cue. "Mr. Christian?"
"All right, I know." I slapped my hand against my forehead. "Question of the day. Go."
Hands shot up, and I called on Weezer. "What do you miss most about Atlanta?" he asked.
Finally a decent question. I steepled my hands together and held them to my lips.
"What's he doing?" asked Jason.
Allison swooned. "I think he's praying."
"He's such a good Christian," beamed Carla.
"He's thinking, bozos," barked Peter.
"Language," I said instinctively.
Peter corrected himself. "He's thinking... dummies."
"Okay, hush. The thing..." I paused, still narrowing down my answer. "... I miss the most about Atlanta... is..."
... people who can read, the food, water you can drink, schools with other teachers and hot coffee, bedrooms with windows ...
"... The thing I miss most about Atlanta is the..." I straightened up and relaxed my shoulders as it came to me, "... are the trees."
There was a mixed reception toward my answer, but I nodded. "It's true. I really do miss the trees."
Jason crossed his arms. "We have trees here."
"You do, but I miss the pine trees and the evergreens."
"Which ones are they?" asked Scarlet.
"The ones that are always green," said Montana.
Amy chimed in, "And sticky."
Scarlet's nose was wrinkled, so I explained, "Pine trees are the trees that have needles instead of leaves. Not all pine trees are evergreens, but in Georgia, we have lots of pine trees and lots of evergreens. And here in Middwood, you...we have lots of oak and birch trees. I miss the green. In Georgia, there is deep green everywhere."
"What's so great about trees?" asked Jason.
"Well, they all add color to the sky. It's something to break up the blue. Gives you something to look at." I repeated a line I heard so many times, "'God made trees to hide the foolishness of man from his sight. They make the sinful world easier to look at.'" My heart kicked. "That's where my grandmother got her nickname, but her real name was Mary Rose."
"That's pretty." Allison smiled.
"She was so full of life, she was evergreen, so we called her Rose-Mary Grand." I put my hand on the back of my head. Then I let out a breath. Everything was tight inside of me, my neck, shoulders, and jaw.
Amy narrowed her eyes. "Mr. Christian, are you okay? Your face is red."
I cleared my throat. "Sorry. She passed away recently. It's still a bit new."
"I've never seen a man cry," said Jason, shocked.
"He's not crying, fool. He's just a little choked up," scolded Peter.
I took another deep breath and let it out in a choppy stream. "Luckily, it's time to go home. I want all of you to take a science book home and finish reading the first chapter. There are questions on page fourteen. I want you to write the questions and the answers as homework. You will turn your papers in tomorrow."
"We have to read fourteen pages?" moaned Jason.
"We have already read the first seven." I addressed the rest of the class, "If you have problems, you can get your parents to help you."
Weezer raised his hand. "Mr. Christian, my dad can't read."
I squeezed my eyes shut and released another sigh. I'd expected this would be the case with at least some of the students. I ran my hands through my hair and gently scratched an itch on my shin.
"That's okay. Some people can't read, but they are still skilled, smart people." I looked at Weezer. "Who knows? Maybe you can help teach him someday. Get your mom to help."
He replied with a smile.
Turning my attention back to the class, I added, "Just get it done."
The class looked at me with nervous frowns.
Carla raised a finger. "Mr. Christian?"
What? What can you possibly want? I thought. Venomous aggravation wished to spew from my mouth, but I thought about Darlene and held in my swelling anger behind clenched teeth. "Yes, Darlene—I'm sorry, yes, Carla?"
"Would you like me to take up last night's writing assignments?"
"Sure. Everyone, give Carla your homework before you leave, and have a good evening.”
The class stirred like a storm with papers rising into the air, Carla taking each in her hands, protecting them from the chaos like they were baby birds. Once their assignments were out of their hands, the students raced to the door like lightning from the clouds.
She stacked and placed them on my desk.
“Thank you, Carla.”
She curtsied and left.
The twins stopped in front of my desk and stared at me.
I looked at them with pained exhaustion. “What?”
They looked at the desks just inside the door. There sat two forgotten science books. I grunted as I pulled myself from my seat to grab the books and run to the door. “Weezer, you and Jason forgot your books!”
“Oh, no!" Weezer shouted. He threw his fists down to his sides as he yelled down the mountain, "Hey, Jason, come back and get your book!"
Weezer turned and trotted back to the school, but quickly downshifted into a fast walk. I knew it would take him a while. "I'll just put them down on the steps. Take your time."
I shook my head and walked back into the room. I leaned against the front of my desk and turned my attention back to the twins. "Thank you, girls."
They looked at me with their blank little faces.
In my mind I thought, No, seriously, thank you, and I'm sorry for being a jerk earlier.
Their faces lit up into smiles. They took each other's hand, swinging them as they exited the school.
They really could hear me.... Of course they can, it's Middwood. "This is the backwoods, mister..." I stopped myself. I was too tired to think about the oddities of the town.
Jason stuck his head in the door. "I got my book."
I tilted my head back in exasperation. "Where is Weezer?"
Jason checked over his shoulder then looked back to me. "He's almost here. You know he's fat."
I narrowed my eyes. "Will you take him his book?"
Jason snarled, grabbed the book, and rushed off, the sound of his running fading across the dirt.
"Thank you, Mr. Christian!" Weezer called from across the schoolyard.
Kids.
36
I wanted to lay down on top of my desk, but I staggered around it, plopped down in my chair, took off my glasses, and rubbed my eyes. I could feel the slight, gritty burn of chalk in them, but with my lack of sleep, there wasn't much of a difference. I sighed as I wiped my face and slapped my hands together to dust them off.
I awoke. I was falling over and I caught myself, but one of my hands struck my science book which somersaulted like an Olympic diver right onto my sore shin.
"Mary fucking shit!" Every muscle in my body tightened, and I shot up in my chair. I pressed down on the bruise and attempted to talk through the pain.
"What was all that?" asked Peter, sitting on his desk.
I jumped.
He laughed, "Oh man, Christian. You're a riot."
"Don't laugh at me," I grumbled and threw the eraser at him.
He dodged it. "I honestly can't help it, you are one jumpy cat."
"Well, you shouldn't sneak up on people. Especially tired people who live in shit-holes towns."
"Wow, you think Middwood is a shit-hole?"
"I didn't mean it like that."
"It's fine. It is a shit-hole."
"I shouldn't have said that. It just slipped out." I cleared my throat. "Why are you here?"
"I was going to scare you outside, but you never came out, so I came in. You were asleep, so I waited."
"You watched me sleep?"
"Yes." He nodded.
"That's odd."
"Definitely is," he replied.
"And you did all this because you wanted to scare me?"
"Yes." He kept nodding. "You're a gas."
"Shouldn't you be going home?"
He got up and straightened the desks. "I have work, but I still have a little bit of time."
I looked at my watch. "How is that possible, the town shuts down in a little over two hours."
"Remember, the town rules don't—"
"Apply to you, yeah."
"I work at Sears."
"The mines wouldn't take you?" I jeered.
"Gosh no, I couldn't work there."
"Too small?"
He lowered his chin and shot me a quick glare. "No, as a matter of fact, it's because of my—"
"Mouth?"
"—hands."
"Your hands?"
"Yes. I have magic hands."
"And you and your magic hands couldn't get a job at one of the mines."
"Well, they just work better at Sears. I'm a delivery boy. Isn't that great? Such a bright future."
I slid the writing assignments into my bag. "Well, I'm a glorified babysitter. Work is work." I crossed to the blackboard and wrote the next day’s assignment on the board. The room was uncomfortably quiet. I wasn't sure what else to say, so I went with a standard teacher question. "What is it that you want to do?"
"I have no idea. Back to you, did you always want to be a babysitter?"
A laugh erupted from me before I knew it.
"What was that?" laughed Peter.
"Man, I don't know. It just jumped out of my mouth. But to answer your question, honestly? No. My Rose-Mary Grand was a teacher, so I became one, too." I shrugged. "I thought about being a lawyer once."
"A lawyer? I can't see you doing that. Oh," he snapped his fingers, "I could see you working in a library."
I wrinkled my face. "How boring?"
"Yes, but you like the quiet and you like books. You would probably love it. You'd fit in with all the old ladies in their shawls."
"Ha. Ha." I kept writing. "Am I that boring?"
"I was picking, Christian. You're not boring."
"It's fine. I do love the quiet." I glanced over my shoulder. "Anything to get away from you kids."
"Except me, of course," he said pointing to himself with a sly grin.
"No, especially you."
"Haha. Right. I'm your favorite."
I laughed, and Peter's expression was so priceless, amused and hurt at the same time, which made me laugh even harder.
My eyes teared from laughing so hard. "Oh man, that was a good one."
"I'm glad to see you can laugh. You always seem so darn serious."
"Well, life has a tendency of doing that."
"Tell me about it." He paused, then continued. "My dad left my mom and me. He was a jerk. It hurt, but we're fine. The river continues to flow." He shrugged.
Serious stuff, I thought. I cleared the webs out of my head. "I'm sorry to hear about your dad."
"It's fine. Can I ask you a personal question?"
"A personal question? Like the one Carla asked me?"
He gently tossed his head from side to side. "Maybe, but not so personal."
I mulled it over. "Sure, but then you go home."
"Deal." He paused. "Um, don't be mad for me asking, but... how did your grandmother die?"
His question clobbered me between the eyes. "Wow, that's a doozy." I pondered how to respond.
"I'm sorry. Never mind. It was stupid to ask. Sorry for being curious about ..." He picked up his book. "Don't be mad at me."
"Peter, I'm not mad at you for asking. It's just that." I sighed. "The answer is complicated."
He sat down. "How so?"
"She um..." I bit my lip, questioning whether or not I should answer. I shook my head. "She killed herself."
His mouth formed a perfect O, and his eyes went wide. His expression wasn't shocked, more like embarrassed.
"You don't have to say anything. I know it's terrible." I scratched my beard. "I shouldn't have told you."
"No." He raised one shoulder. "I'm glad you told me. I mean, thank you for telling me."
I let out a long steady breath. "Listen, you're you only one in Middwood who knows about this. Can we keep this between us?"
He grinned. "You mean, between friends?"
"Yeah, between friends."
He gave a proud nod. "Done!"
Peter waited while I locked up the school and we walked down the hill together.
It was strange. I wasn’t a father, but I had been looked at as a father figure many times before. I had even had a few students call me "dad" by mistake. I could never, of course, be their parent, but as a teacher it was part of my job to teach them, and, from time to time, be whomever they needed me to be, even if I had no idea what a good father would act like.
37
After parting ways with Peter, I made the much-needed stop at the Sear's counter. If I was going to have to sleep in that room, I needed to have comfortable sheets. I think even if I took them out and beat them with a rock it wouldn't make a difference.
A bell attached to the top of the door rang as I entered, but no one came out to greet me.
"Hello?" I called. It was too quiet.
The bell dinged again behind me, and I jumped.
"Kinda jumpy there, aren't you?"
A turned and let out a quiet groan, "No, Clint. You just caught me by surprise."
Clint continued into the small store. "Lots of surprises around here, for sure. What are you ordering?"
I furrowed my brow but let it go. "Oh, some sheets."
He cackled. "What? The ones you have don't match your curtains?"
"You are a strange cat."
"Meow—"
The bell dinged again, and Pastor Gresham entered.
I could help but think I would only be delivered because I'd gone to church on Sunday. If that were the case, I'd have to start going more regularly.
"Mr. Christian, how are you doing?"
He completely overlooked Clint.
"I'm doing well. Thank you, Mr. Gresham. Pastor! Gresham."
"Everyone treating you friendly like?"
The bell dinged again.
Gresham turned in time to see Clint leaving. "Get thee behind me, Satan."
"Sir, you are a Godsend."
"All you have to be is a willing vessel." He smiled. "But good timing comes in handy too. Was he bothering you?"
"No, sir. Just—"
"He's bad news and I'm a preacher, but God says we should love our neighbor."
"Luckily, he doesn't live next door to me."
Gresham laughed.
It was a big hearty bellow. I couldn't help but be amused by his good nature.
"I'm ordering my wife a necklace for her birthday. What about you?"
"Sheets, but what I need now is someone to help me with an order."
Gresham laughed and patted me on the back. "That's not how it works here. Peter is supposed to be here, but ..." he gestured to the empty store.
