Blood Brothers Read online

                “Juanita introduced Maria to a dude named Randy McCord, the hotshot son of a wealthy cattle rancher. Juanita knew Randy did drugs, but she never expected her sister to get serious. But then, the two got married, and Juan was born.”

                “What about Randy’s parents, or the Cruz family back in Mexico? Surely they want Juan?”

                “Nope. The McCords never approved the marriage. They called Maria a wetback, disowned Randy, and never recognized the child as one of their own. As for the Cruz family back in Mexico, they want Juan to stay in the States and enjoy the benefits of American citizenship.”

                Matthew was right. It was a sad story, so Diana thought about Juan as she gazed into a patch of dark green forest. Suddenly, she saw a flash of movement between pine trees. “What was that?” She pointed to the spot.

                “Oh, that’s the kid . He’s playing with Ursie.” Matthew laughed. “They’ve been chasing around like that all afternoon. I saw them from up on the roof, dashing in and out of the shadows, but they seldom came close to the house. Do you think Juan’s scared of me?”

                “Maybe he’s just shy?” In fact, Diana feared Juan might be suffering from severe psychological problems, and was it any wonder? He had lost both his parents, and now he an orphan nobody wanted.  He’d been uprooted and shipped off to a strange place, to live with Bobby and Juanita---not an ideal couple. “What’s the story?” she demanded. “How didJuan end up in North Carolina?” Her maternal instincts clicked into high gear.

                “Where else could he go?” Matthew said. “Juanita was the boy’s last chance to stay in America, and this summer is a trial run. Juan is eight years old. If Juanita agrees to keep him, he’ll start third grade here in Troutman next fall. If not, he goes back to Mexico.”

                “Just like that?”

                “Yeah, just like that.”

                Matthew captured her hand and pulled her to her feet. “C’mon, let’s see if we can catch that kid. Last I saw, he’d cornered poor Ursie in the gully down yonder.”

                She trailed in silence. The molten sun had finally dropped lower in the sky, the temperature fell with it. The grass was cool on her ankles, and the soft lapping of waves soothed her frustration. But then, those natural sounds were joined by something far more primal---the distant, but distinct, sound of human weeping.

                Matthew heard it, too. They picked up their pace, and soon ran into the center of a circle of evergreens. They found the child sitting cross-legged in a bed of clover, tears streaming in dirty rivulets down his face. The dog lay beside him, her head buried in the grass, one paw lifted plaintively in the air.

                As they came closer, Juan wailed even louder.

                “What’s wrong, are you hurt?” Diana slid down beside the stricken boy, who vigorously shook his head and pointed at Ursie.

                “What is it, son?” Matthew knelt beside them as the boy’s eyes widened in fear.

                “I shot the dog!” Juan held up his toy dart gun. “I didn’t mean to hurt her, honest!”

                A flush of crimson spread under Matthew’s old hat. Knots tightened in his jaw as he wordlessly examined Ursie. “Guns are serious business, young man…” Matthew’s voice was deep and stern. “They’re for hunting, understand? Never point a gun at anyone, or anything, unless you intend to harm it.”

                Juan’s sobs became hiccups. He threw the dart gun away. “It’s just a toy, Mister! We were playing a game, that’s all.”

                “No gun is a game, boy, but this time you were lucky…” Matthew lifted Ursie’s paw for general inspection. “Is this where you shot her?”

                The child nodded.

                “Well, then,” Matthew continued. “She is hurt, but you didn’t do it.”

                Juan rubbed at his tears with the back of his hand. He was obviously relieved, but his amazing blue eyes were round with confusion.

                “Ursie stepped on a fish hook a couple of days ago. That’s all this is. She was injured long before you laid eyes on her.”

                To prove the point, Ursie crawled to her feet, then limped over and licked Juan’s face.

                “See? Ursie’s just fine,” Diana said.

                “What’s a fish hook?” Juan remained unconvinced, but his tears had stopped.

                “C’mon, you know what I’m talking about…” Matthew lifted his big hand into the air. He dangled his long fingers and wiggled them. “A fish hook. You get a mess of big, juicy worms, work em onto the hook, then toss ʼem overboard…”

                Juan was intrigued, yet he inched away from the big man with the funny hand.

                Diana saw the problem instantly. The child was scared of Matthew. “Listen, Johnny, this is Mr. Troutman. He’s a friend of your aunt Nita’s. Ursie is Mr. Troutman’s dog.”

                “But most folks call me Trout, like the fish.” Matthew grinned

                A bulb lit up behind Juan’s eyes and his mouth opened in a crooked smile. “They named you after a fish?”

                “Reckon so…” Matthew laughed. “You ever been fishing, son?”

                Juan looked at Diana, unsure how to answer. “You go out in a boat?”

                “You can fish from a boat, or a dock, or even off a bridge.” Matthew cocked his head towards the lake. “Lots of big fish right out there, catfish long as a baseball bat.”

                “For real?” Again Juan glanced at her.

                Matthew laid two fingers gently under Juan’s chin. He tilted the boy’s face in his direction. “Look at me, son. I have a boat. Do you want to go fishing with me?”

        
;        The child nodded vigorously.

                “Then let’s do it!” Matthew prodded Juan and Diana to their feet, then herded them towards the house, Ursie in tow. “We’ll get permission from your aunt and go fishing next week. How does that sound?”

                Juan grabbed Diana’s hand and tugged hard. “Can she come too?”

                Matthew grinned. “She’s city lady? You think she can handle those messy worms?” He winked at Diana. “Absolutely, Johnny. She’s coming, too.”

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  FOUR

   

   

                The heavens wept…

   

                Leona Clontz cracked open the door of her trailer and peered into the evening. She wrinkled her nose, sniffing for a breeze, then turned off the wheezing air conditioner. All day the thing had been rattling and bucking in the window, to where she couldn’t hear herself think.

                Maybe not thinking was a blessing, for lately she’d been dwelling on her little lost boy, Baby Bird, her secret name for him. He’d be near eight years old now, but she dared not let the men know where her mind often dwelled.

                If the men were fixing to eat with her, they’d be home by now. Seeing as it was a Saturday night, they likely went ’round to the tavern once the last load of lumber was dropped off. Just as well. When they staggered in later, all lit up like Roman candles, she’d already be asleep and done with it.

                Leona pushed off her house slippers, leaving them behind on the metal steps while she scampered through the damp grass to the abandoned single-wide next door. The folks who lived there moved away the week the Clontz family moved in, so Leona never really knew them. But she’d heard tell the man was a local boy living with a Mexican whore. The couple left Sylvan Acres when they won the jackpot, or some such thing.

                Leona paid no mind to gossip. She was not impressed by easy money. Money was Darryl’s thing. Nor was she offended by the idea of the whore--- sex was Floyd’s thing. Truth be told, all she cared about were the pretty flowers left behind. Pity to let all those daylilies, summer phlox, and black-eyed Susan’s go to waste. No one was watching, so she picked off those blossoms come to full maturity, then scampered barefoot back to the trailer.

                Sometimes their silver mobile home, reflecting the clouds and the setting sun…like now… put her in mind of Baby Bird. She saw him as a helpless, tiny thing, like a fledgling fallen from the nest before he knew how to fly.

                Or maybe he was more like an airplane dropped from the sky? Leona never actually seen the thing they pulled out from her womb after the accident, but she always pictured him bald, except for a blur of blond fuzz, like a duckling. He had big, blue, staring eyes, like hers. But instead of hands and legs, she imagined withered little wings and claws…an unformed thing.

                When Baby Bird came to wake her, and she lay crying for him in the night, her young husband, Darryl, would reach across the covers and said it ain’t nothin’ but a bad dream, but Leona knew the truth. This time of year, around his birthday, she imagined Bird all grown up like a regular little boy. He reached for her across time itself, and in her heart of hearts, she knew he was out there looking for his mama.

                Rock of ages, cleft for me…let me hide myself in thee. Sometimes she sang all by herself, loud and strong. Mother Mattie always claimed Leona’s voice was her best feature. Even Darryl and his brothers agreed, so long as she didn’t overdo it.

                She rinsed out Floyd’s empty Wild Turkey bottle and arranged the flowers in it, so the lilies hung out just right, then she set it amongst her dolls. The doll collection was her passion and her pride. Now, with the miniature Raggedy Ann she found at the yard sale yesterday, she had sixteen in all. Darryl didn’t care one way or the other, but Floyd flew into a rage when he caught her spending good money on dolls.

                But some were old and valuable, especially the ones with porcelain hands, feet and faces. Some of her newborns were dressed in homemade lace. Yet once, when she tried to explain how the dolls were an investment, Floyd got so mad he bit off one of the porcelain heads and spit it out in the garbage. Now she tucked the new ones away real good, where he can’t find them.

                Leona slipped into the single bedroom at the back of the trailer and pulled the door shut. She lifted the counterpane, reached under the bed, and found the shoebox where she kept one special doll segregated from all the rest. She cradled it in her arms and crawled under the sheet, holding its little face to her breast, and recalled how she got pregnant.

   

                She was fifteen years old, with Darryl, not much more than a boy himself. He took her away from Mother Mattie and her home in the mountains near Boone, and they went to live with the Clontz clan in strange dark hills where the sun never shined.

                But before Leona left, Mother Mattie took some egg money from the jar on the icebox, and they went into Boone to see the Apple Lady. The old woman didn’t speak English. She hailed from mountains on the other side of the world, and she made little boy dolls dressed like her people back home, with funny leather shorts and real straw hats.

                For as long as Leona could remember, the Apple Lady came into Boone on weekends and set up outside Mast General Store. And as soon as Leona was old enough to talk, she started begging for one of them dolls. When Mattie gave her one as a farewell present, Leona cried and vowed that no matter how far Darryl carried her from Mattie and her beloved hills, the doll would be with her always.

                At first the doll’s face was round and red, like an actual baby. But as time passed and the apple shriveled, like they’re supposed to do, the boy doll turned into an old man. The day it happened, Leona was seven months gone with child, and she was laying on a hillside above the coal mine. Her legs were weak as the toothpick legs the old woman used to make for the apple turkeys that always toppled. Anyhow, Leona was lying there, minding her own business, just watching her doll’s head shrivel up, when thunder commenced and the rain began.

                Darryl’s little sister, the only girl child in a family of eight boys, was toddling down the hill to where the coal cart was perched at the top of the rails. The brothers were real proud of that cart. They had rigged it up just the
week before, with electricity and all. The mule was happy, too, on account of his hauling days were finally over.

                That day Leona rocked the doll, and the lightning flashed. Rain poured from the sky like some dam burst up in Heaven, and Little Sister climbed into the cart.

                After that, it seemed like everything went wrong all at once. All the others were off at church, it being Sunday morning, but Leona was Seventh Day Adventist and didn’t hold with the Clontz family religion. Plus, Little Sister always acted up at church, so the two bad seeds had been left behind at home. Alone.

                Little Sister pulled the start lever and the cart careened downwards towards the mouth of the mine. Leona started running barefoot through the wet grass, fast as toothpick legs could carry her. Thunder clapped and the heavens wept. Leona grabbed onto the start lever and pulled backwards, and lightning shot up her arm like hellfire. The pain jangled through her body, burning like damnation. It chattered her teeth and shook her dead.

                But God didn’t finish the job, like He should have done. Instead, He saw fit to leave her alive, and she woke up in a strange hospital in Wheeling. Little Sister had been saved, the cart had stopped at the brink of the tunnel, and Little Sister told how she found Leona lying still as death in the wet grass, her right arm and leg sticking out stiff and smoking like hot dogs on the grill.

                Baby Bird was dead.

               

                Back in the real world, Leona lifted her head when she heard the sudden clatter of the Clontz lumber truck pulling into the drive. Someone leaned on the horn, and then the brakes squealed to a stop outside the door. In a rush of panic, she scrambled upright and peeked out the vent above her pillow.