"Go ahead," Chris said.

  "About the previous teacher."

  He tensed and looked around. "I'm sorry, but I think my wife is ready to go."

  I turned, but she was still talking to the women with her back to us. I turned back. "I'm sorry, but I'm just curious. How did she die?"

  "I'm afraid I can't answer that question."

  "Listen, I won't tell anyone—"

  "No, you listen." He spoke with a quiet intensity. "It was a mistake for me to say anything in the first place. Do us both a favor and forget I told you anything."

  "What's the big deal?"

  He swallowed, his face red. "The fact you're asking that is enough. Look, Matt, you seem like a nice guy, but this town isn't like where you come from. Maybe you shouldn't stay."

  As a teacher, I knew when someone was feeding me a line. I frowned. "I see."

  "It was nice to meet you. Hope to see you next week," he said, then called out to his wife. "Honey? Are you ready to go?"

  I watched him as they walked away. He whispered into Wendy's ear. She whipped her head around and gave me a stern look.

  Great. Now I look like a troublemaker. Maybe I should have gone to the Methodist church...

  17

  I hurried outside, and Franklin was waiting on the church's grass with a mammoth-sized man. I moved toward them, but a woman stepped unapologetically in front of me.

  Her face was like stone, long and thick. Her eyes were on my face, but it was like she was focusing on my nose instead of my eyes. "These are my children." Her voice droned. "They’ll be at school tomorrow."

  I looked at her daughters. They were twin girls of about eight or nine years old with matching yellow dresses. I grinned. "Hello. Your dresses are pretty. I'm Mr. Christian."

  The mother drew my attention back to her. "Their names are Kate and Meg. They don't talk much, or at all. However, they are listening. They'll hear ya."

  What a freak, I thought. The twins narrowed their eyes. Oh, brother, they’re freaks, too, I thought. How did I end up in this town?

  I inhaled. "It was nice to meet you, and you two as well."

  I received blank stares from the three of them, then they left.

  Franklin waved to me. "Matt, come meet one of Middwood's finest."

  My shoulder muscles tensed, not just because he was a cop, but because the man was massive. He wasn't fat by any means, but he was huge, even bigger than the preacher. A real tough guy. I was glad he smiled at me because in any other situation he was a man I would avoid out of pure fear. His smile gave him an approachable and handsome quality that reminded me of a mix of Marlon Brando and Li’l Abner. He was in his early to mid-thirties, clean-shaven, and wore a conservative, slicked-down, side-part hairdo.

  "Matt Christian, Sheriff Philip Rollin."

  I looked up at the man. I'm six feet tall, but standing next to the sheriff I felt small. He was not only around a foot taller than me, but he was at least a foot wider.

  He did what I feared, he reached out his hand. I did my best to hide my reluctance, but I accepted Rollin’s greeting. I had average appendages, but my hands were like a child's in comparison. To add further insult to my manhood, Rollin gave an intense squeeze. I tried not to wince.

  So, Eddie was the guard on the castle wall and Rollin was the dragon. Just seeing the sheriff was enough to keep outsiders in check. It was like he was saying, “Welcome to our town, but know I'm bigger, stronger, and I could easily destroy you.”

  The sheriff unclenched my hand and I hid it behind my back.

  An older lady walked up to the sheriff and wrapped her pudgy arms around his midsection. "Hello, sweetheart."

  "Hey, Mama," he smiled and gave her a side squeeze.

  She wasn't a giant like her son, but she was still tall for a woman, standing eye to eye with me.

  "Welcome to town, Matt," the jolly, older woman said. "I'm Phyllis Rollin—”

  "My sweet mama," grinned Philip as he squeezed her again.

  "But you can call me Grandma Rollin." She gave me a warm grin and shook my hand. "How’s your wife adjusting to the big city of Middwood?"

  "She hates it." I grinned. "I'm kidding, I'm not married."

  "Oh, my word, then that must be why you are so skinny. I don't understand all these handsome men holdin' out and being bachelors when we have so many single girls around."

  "Ma," warned Philip.

  Grandma Rollin pointed to Philip and mouthed the words, "He's single, too."

  Sheriff Rollin changed the subject. "If there is ever any problem, Matt, you just let me know."

  "Of course, Sheriff."

  He continued, "We want to keep you around as long as we can." He slapped me on the back with his heavy hand. I almost fell over. "Uh oh, watch it there, buddy. Have you been drinking?" he and Phyllis laughed.

  I attempted to join their humor.

  Franklin stepped forward. “You two have a great Sunday. Matt and I have a trip ahead of us.”

  We exchanged “it was nice to have met you’s” and they went on their way.

  I pointed to my right at the four-story building beside First Baptist. "Mr. Mullis, before I forget, what is that building?"

  His voice filled with past pride. "Mr. Christian, that is the big store, or what used to be the big store." I wrinkled my forehead and he explained, "Like I told you, the town is small because it was built for one reason, coal. It's like all the other little mining towns up and down the mountain ranges. Companies bought the land where coal was, and to have a workforce, the company erected the houses and everything else you see. The big store—the building here—used to provide just about everything the miners and their families needed: doctors, dentists, drug store, bank, clothes, everything.

  "The mines are still running though, right?" I asked.

  Franklin shook his head. "More or less, but, Matt, it's nothing like it used to be. The company that owned this mine left, and they took all their money with them. So the people they left behind took over the town and the old mine."

  "Sounds rough." I knew Middwood was in bad shape, and now I knew why.

  "We manage, and we'll get Middwood back to its former glory," he said with confidence, a dreamy rasp in his voice.

  I didn't say anything, but even with my decent imagination, Franklin's vision seemed utterly unrealistic.

  "And guess what, Mr. Christian?"

  I raised my eyebrows.

  "It all starts with you, the new teacher."

  He shifted to me. “Are you ready to go up?"

  "All right, I'm ready."

  "It's not that far, and I'm sure you are in better shape than me. Do you smoke?"

  "No."

  "Good, then yes, you are in better shape than me."

  According to Franklin, getting to the school was simple, you take a left after you cross Keeper's Bridge, walk for ten minutes, make a right up the dirt path, then hike up the slope for ten minutes.

  Less than halfway up the steep incline, I started feeling the burn in my upper legs. Franklin was also having a bit of trouble, wheezing in between his huffs. I guess he wasn't joking about the smoking.

  "Are you okay, Mr. Mullis?"

  "Of course, I do it a couple of times a week, and for the last time, call me Franklin. Mr. Mullis is good and dead, and I'm not ready to see my father again anytime soon."

  "Force of habit. Sorry."

  He huffed. "And stop apologizing all the time."

  Franklin was an old crab, but I couldn't help but grin. I liked the guy.

  I was nervous, though there was a sense of adventure to all of it. I knew it would be a small school, but I was looking forward to meeting the other teachers. With the town being so small, there might only be three of us total. I would need to dodge questions about why I left my previous school. Secretly I believed Franklin already knew about Darlene.

  An old school bell tower appeared and grew as we crossed into the sunshine away from the mountain's shaded path. "Oh wow, a school bell. Do I get to ring an actual school bell?"

  Franklin stayed silent.

  As we reached the top of the ridge, I stumbled. I looked down and saw my shoes were covered with dust. Loafers weren't the best option for hiking.

  I looked up and the path led to a flat, leveled open space. I wasn't from the mountains, so I didn't know what it was called. "It's almost like a floating island—"

  I stopped. There was no school in site.

  About ten yards away, off center from the dirt yard, was a single dead tree with a stump hiding under it. A few yards behind that sat an old, off-white shack of a building.

  I wrinkled my forehead.

  Simply stacked, cinderblock stairs led up to a set of faded black double doors. Hanging beside the entrance were two sheets of weathered plywood covering what I assumed was a window. Under the plywood to the left of the doors was a worn bench.

  Granted, I had never been to the mountains before, but everything around me from the ugly mountains, the rotten tree, and the miserable, pitiful shack... it was truly a different world than Atlanta. With all the backward shit that had happened to me, I didn't know if I was still on a job interview or had become a soon-to-be sacrifice for a town cult.

  18

  I stood there, frozen. I never wanted to be wasted out of my mind as bad as I did at that moment. I knew what I was looking at, and I was terrified. "Mr. Mullis, where are we?"

  Franklin dismissed my question. "Hop up on that bench and take a look through the window. There's a gap there you can peek through."

  "Do you have a key?"

  "Of course, Mr. Christian, but it's been closed for thirteen years. We best look through the window to check it out before we open the door."

  "You mean this is the—"

  Franklin continued: "A black bear could have made the place into its den. There are lots of them around here, though there's still a few weeks before denning time."

  I started at Franklin blankly.

  "Wake up, Mr. Christian. It means hibernating."

  "I see. Black bears?" My mind became more numb by the moment. "Um, shouldn't we have a gun or something?"

  Franklin urged me on. I nodded and attempted to hide my concern about the shack.

  I faced the building and closed my eyes. I gave the bench a shake with my foot. It didn't collapse and seemed sturdy enough, so I stepped up, pulled back the corner of the plywood, and peered in, keeping my face as far from the opening as possible. The windows were dirty, so my view wasn't clear. I inched closer. The room was dim, but I was able to make out the wooden back support of a chair.

  Fuck, I thought, it's a desk. It was the school. My heart melted in the fire of the hell I found myself in. I wished a bear would kill me.

  Rawr!

  Hands slapped at the glass, and young faces materialized.

  I rocketed into the air and fell off the bench, landing on my ass.

  "You scared the—"

  "Bejesus out of you from the looks of it." Franklin laughed and slapped his side. "You city boys are too much."

  One of the kids inside laughed with a shout, "Did you see that? He jumped like a cat."

  "Yeah, but cats land on their feet," said another kid as they opened the door and piled outside. There were four in all.

  The Shawnee woman I had seen outside the diner stepped out of the school as well. She pushed one of the boys. "Peter help him up."

  I was instantly embarrassed she had seen me fall.

  "Our joke got a little more out of you than we expected," she apologized.

  An older blonde girl stood inside the school's doorway with a broom. "See, Peter, I told you it was a bad idea."

  A joke. Prank the new teacher. Hilarious, I thought.

  The boy who was with Litonya earlier dragged his feet down the stairs. "You don't have to be sour about it," he griped.

  "I wouldn't say I'm sour about it, but I do wish I had a bit more padding on my backside."

  He reached out his hand. I wasn't sure if I should trust him, so I stood up myself.

  "See. He's an okay guy," the chubby kid said.

  Just then, a young girl of around twelve hovered in front of me. "Hello, Mr. Christian, I'm Carla. I just wanted to introduce myself and tell you I'm pleased to hear we're finally startin' school again in Middwood."

  I cleaned my hands off on my slacks. "It's nice to meet you, Carla."

  The boy with the attitude still hadn't introduced himself. "And who are you? The bear hiding in the outbuilding?"

  The chubby boy pointed to me. "See, Peter, he's not a square."

  The teenager, Peter, grunted. "Weezer, he wasn't making a joke. He doesn't know this is the school. He probably thought it was just an outhouse."

  Everyone turned and looked at me.

  I didn't know what to say. The window had been a trick. Was this just another hoax?

  Peter burst into laughter. "Oh boy! He doesn't know!"

  "Peter, that's enough," Litonya warned.

  "Come on, mom. It's funny."

  I held it all in until the pain was so great that it burst out of my mouth as a laugh. I stroked my beard as I feverishly nodded until the laughter stopped. "This is the school?"

  No one laughed.

  I pushed a grin on to my face. "It's quaint."

  Weezer looked to the other children. "What's quaint?"

  "It means, charming, Weezer. Like Prince Charming," said the blonde girl.

  Peter leaned against the school laughing. "Amy, it means he hates it."

  I gave a plastic smile. "No. It just means... it's not what I expected."

  "He doesn't hate it. Do you?" Amy, the blonde, asked.

  Carla stepped forward. "Mr. Christian, you hate it? You won't leave, will you?"

  Peter pointed to me with both palms. "Didn't you hear me? He—"

  "Peter! Hush!" his mother snapped.

  Everyones gaze was on me.

  Franklin was wearing his bulldog face, and my laughter didn't amuse him.

  I cleared my throat. "But ..." I bit through my insanity. "I'm so grateful for the opportunity. Someone show me the school.”

  Carla hopped to attention. "Yes, sir, Mr. Christian! Right, this way."

  Franklin spoke up. "Okay, kids, let's clean this place up for tomorrow."

  "Just a second, Carla. Mr. Mullis, I can help."

  "Oh, no." The blonde moved back to the school. "We don't mind, Mr. Christian. And I'm Amy."

  "Nice to meet you."

  She smiled as she pushed on Weezer's shoulder. "Besides, we're good at cleaning. Aren't we, Weezer?"

  The chubby boy ignored her.

  "Weezer, come help me."

  "I want to sit outside and watch the new teacher."

  Franklin spoke up. "Weezer, he's not doing anything."

  "Then just let me rest a minute," he whined.

  Franklin threatened, "Get up, fatty."

  Carla pulled my arm. "Come on, Mr. Christian."

  The Shawnee woman approached. She and Peter both had dark, straight hair, but her complexion was slightly darker. I had seen Litonya this morning at a distance and thought she was attractive, but up close she was beautiful.

  "Carla, you're doing such a good job at helping Mr. Christian. Can I talk to him for a moment?"

  "Of course, Ms. Tonya."

  Carla took a few steps away and waited. Litonya regarded her with a warm smile.

  I tried to speak, but nothing came out of my mouth.

  She grinned as she took in my awkwardness.

  "I-I'm sorry, I'm Matt Christian."

  She smiled. "I know who you are, Matt. I'm Litonya Janowski, Peter's mother. But please call me Tonya." She held out her hand.

  "Nice to meet you."

  Her hands were small, but her grip was firm, and her hands were rougher than I expected. Without thinking, I examined our handshake.

  She pulled back. "Did I get something on you?"

  "Oh, no," I answered. "Or I don't think so..." I looked down at my open hand, trying to concoct a reason to cover my surprise.

  "I was working earlier; I paint. I'm probably still covered in it," she apologized, searching her simple dress.

  "No, you look just fine. I'm just weird." I let out a nervous laugh. "But you paint. That's amazing. I should really try and get one of those, a hobby, I mean." I grinned hoping my joke wasn't too lame.

  "Well, I refuse to learn to type."

  "I support feminism."

  "Feminism?" She laughed. "Do you read a lot?"

  I widened my eyes. "I do. Can you read minds?" I grinned and gave a boyish laugh.

  Good grief, I hated myself.

  She laughed politely. "You are going to be the talk of the county, you know? Oh! And my son, Peter, will be coming tomorrow."

  "No, I'm not!" the boy called from some hidden place.

  Trying to ignore my hesitations about her son, I replied, "I'm lucky to have found such a charming town."

  She leaned in, grinning. "Mr. Christian, there is no need for lies with me. The valley is incredibly boring."

  Her frankness was the relief I needed. "Well, it's different, but that is part of its appeal."

  "Carla," Franklin called from the school's doorway. "I know you are waiting but let me show him the inside of the school."

  She pursed her lips. "I'll just wait for you right here."

  "Thanks, Carla."

  Tonya touched my shoulder. "I need to get home. Good luck tomorrow, Matt."

  I smiled. "Thank you. I'll need it."

  As I moved toward the school, I bit at the dead skin off my lip, hoping the inside was better than the outside.

  Franklin stepped into the dim schoolhouse ahead of me. "We got new desks about fifteen years back. They're still nice."

  I climbed the unsteady blocks and entered the shed, the stale air inside held notes of dirt and mold. Franklin walked through the room and dust danced up from the floor and the tops of the desks.

  "Don't worry, we'll get it cleaned up by tomorrow," he said moving to pick up and overturned stool next to the window. "I guess it's gotten a little dusty since it's been closed." He sat the stool down next to an old stove. "And look, I put the stove in myself. It's coal burning, of course. Nifty isn't it? If you’ve never lit one before I can show you.” He smiled with pride. I didn't speak but stared at the floor for many moments. Finally, he pushed, "What do you think, Mr. Christian?"

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35