The Wonder of All Things (14 page)

Macon had known the question was coming. His religious views were a large part of the conversation everyone seemed to want to have with him these days. There was an obvious parallel between what Ava had done and the miracles performed by Jesus, and that was something the world couldn’t ignore. And so, naturally, people wanted to know precisely where Macon stood in regard to the topic. They wanted to know if he was Catholic, Baptist, Methodist, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Taoist or other. They asked if he was atheist, deist or agnostic. Something else? Miracles were never things to be confined. For as long as people have acknowledged the mundane, they’ve believed in the miraculous. Did he attend church every week, or hardly at all? Did he pray? Did he believe in anything at all?

Ultimately, he knew that it didn’t matter what he believed—or didn’t believe. If he said he was a religious man, those who weren’t religious would try to pick him apart—saying it was a hoax orchestrated by a religious nut. If he said something to indicate that religion wasn’t a big part of his life, then there would be those who would attack him on the very grounds of the fact that there was no word that could be used to describe what Ava had done other than
miracle.

“I believe what I believe,” Macon replied. It was the best reply he could come up with. It declared nothing and affronted no one.

“Fair enough,” Reverend Brown replied, and there was sincerity in his voice. “All of us,” he continued, “are entitled to stand upon our own spiritual ground, whatever it may be. And maybe, at this particular point in time, with everything going on around you and your daughter, maybe you deserve that right more than anyone else.”

“Why do I get the feeling there’s a ‘but’ coming?” Macon asked.

“There is something I would like from you.”

“What?”

“In short,” the reverend said, “I would like your help.” He paused for a moment, as if to allow Macon to imagine the specifics of what he wanted. Then he continued, “I think that I can help you and your family. I think I’ve made that abundantly clear to you. But I can’t do it unless you allow me. And I would like for you to allow me to help Ava. And the best way to do that is if the two of you will join my church.”

* * *

“What did Reverend Brown say?” Carmen asked. They stood in the driveway, bundled up in the unseasonable cold. It was late and Ava was sleeping in her bedroom so they’d chosen to have their argument in the yard. One of the benefits of living in the middle of the woods was that there were no neighbors within hearing distance, something they rarely took advantage of, but enjoyed when the time was appropriate.

Macon looked down the long driveway toward the bottom of the hill. Where he thought he would find the lights of the reporters that had been watching their house every day since all of this began, he saw only darkness.

“What happened to the piranhas?” Macon asked.

“You’re avoiding my question.” Carmen folded her arms across her chest and Macon knew she wouldn’t be moved until they’d talked.

“Don’t underestimate how much talent it takes to avoid your questions,” Macon replied.

“And don’t underestimate the ability of a pregnant woman to hit you with a frying pan if you don’t answer her.”

“Okay,” Macon said, grinning. Then he took a deep breath and the grin fell away. “I don’t think he’s a bad man,” Macon said.

“What does he want with Ava?” Carmen replied with a directness not unlike Macon’s.

The air was cool and crisp. Off in the west the moon sat low on the horizon, half-secluded by the mountains and pines springing up shaggy and thick in the dimness. The crickets and cicadas were singing their various songs and the wind that came down off the mountain smelled of night-blooming jasmine. Though it seemed the winter would be early this year, life still clung to the earth.

“Well,” Carmen said. “How bad is it?”

“He wants Ava to help someone.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s the same thing Eldrich wanted, the same thing they all want. He thinks that Ava, if she really can do what she does, has a responsibility to help people. To do good things. Or, at least, to do the best that she can.” He tightened his mouth, trying to force the words forward. “And I can’t say I’m a hundred percent in disagreement with him.”

“Well, that’s easy enough,” she replied. “No.”

“Carmen.”

“What? I don’t see the need for a discussion here.” She rubbed the side of her head. “Tell him the same thing you should have told Eldrich—to go to hell. Nobody knows what happened with Ava and Wash, let’s just all go ahead and concede that. Nobody knows how she did it. Hell, half the world still doesn’t believe she did it. And, honestly, I’m okay with that. Maybe that’ll help this blow over a little quicker.” She stepped forward and took Macon’s hand in hers. She looked him in the eyes. “But the one thing that we do know is that, whatever she did, it hurt her to do it. She was unconscious for three days. And she still doesn’t look like she’s back to normal. You’ve seen the way she can never get warm.”

“I know,” Macon said, looking away. “It’s just that...well, we can’t really pretend that none of this happened. We can’t act like we have the option of just forgetting what she did.”

“Yes, we do,” Carmen said. “We can just say no. When people ask to do tests or ask her to do it again, we can just say no. That is an option. We all have the right to say no.”

“You’ve got to understand how big this is, Carmen.” Macon squeezed her hand gently. “She did something unbelievable. And maybe with him,” Macon said hesitantly, “there’s a better chance to steer all of this. I don’t know. It just...it just feels so big.” He made a motion with his hands to show that he was encompassing something large and unwieldy with his statement. “People keep asking questions and I can’t answer any of them. She’s my child and I don’t know what’s going on with her.” He sighed softly. “The doctors said she’s getting better.”

“The doctors don’t know shit,” Carmen said sharply. “Every time she does
it
she goes into a coma. Think about that, Macon. Think about what all of this is doing to her body. Have you seen how skinny she’s getting? She eats but it’s like it’s all going into a black hole somewhere. Her clothes barely fit her anymore.”

“Carmen,” Macon said exhaustedly. “Can’t we just talk about this instead of arguing about it?”

“This is killing her, Macon,” Carmen said slowly. “Little by little, it’s killing her.”

“Please...” Macon said, pleading. He stood with his eyes closed, not seeing what was in front of him.

Carmen began to speak again, but stopped herself. She had grown up in a household with a mother and father whose arguments were not unlike the one she currently found herself caught in. And she had always promised that she would not become the woman her mother was—a woman who did not give her husband or children the chance to make a case for themselves but, instead, launched into soliloquies and called them arguments. Even though the person on the other side of the conversation was never allowed to get a word in edgewise. She paused and caught her breath. “Okay,” she said eventually. “Let’s hear it.”

“This whole thing, the way everyone is responding to it, I’m lost in it,” he said. “I’m just a sheriff—a decent one, but just a sheriff. I handle lost dogs and burning ordinances and the occasional drunk who can’t find his way back to his farm. That’s it. That’s who I am. That’s what I know. And now I don’t know what the hell is going on. Every day this all just gets bigger and bigger. More people come to town, more news cameras, more people asking for interviews, more people trying to tell me what it all means. And since I haven’t really got a clue what it all means, I don’t know who to believe.” Macon walked to Carmen and, finally, she unfolded her arms. He took her hands in his. “I’m scared,” he said.

Carmen could blame the tears that came on the pregnancy. She was always crying about something, it seemed. But she wasn’t crying because she wanted Macon to concede, nor was she crying because of her hormones. She wept because, like her husband, she was terrified—adrift in a strange, unsure world. And she knew he would not cry, so she cried for him.

“Isn’t there any better way?” Carmen managed.

“If you can think of it,” Macon said, “I’ll listen.”

She had no reply.

“Look at where we live, Carmen.” He made a motion with his head to indicate the house behind her. She did not turn. She knew, as well as Macon did, where they lived. “We’re not quite starving,” Macon continued, “but we need money. You know that. We’re just scraping by and now we’re going to have another member of this crazy little family of ours. There aren’t any teaching jobs around here and being the sheriff is a joke.” He shook his head. “I spent my entire life living in this house, watching it fall apart, unable to do anything to change it. Unable to make a decent living. And now, by some chance, we’ve got a chance to change that.” He reached up and wiped a tear from Carmen’s face. “I know we’ll make this work. I believe that something special is happening in our lives right now. And I don’t want to turn away from that.”

Carmen had a thousand things she wanted to say. A dozen different arguments against Reverend Brown alone. But she loved her husband, and she was as afraid and uncertain as he was. At least now, they could be afraid and uncertain together. At least now, neither of them would be striking out alone at things. “Okay,” she said finally.

Then she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Her stomach—holding the baby they had made together pressing between them—was the proof of her love for him and her willingness to follow him into the days ahead. “But if we’re going to do this, I’m not wearing any of those god-awful flowered hats that women at his church wear.”

And then they laughed and the night did not seem quite as cold and the days looming ahead less arduous.

* * *

The drive over to the Campbells’ had been more of a headache than Tom expected. If things were bad before with Ava and all of the attention they were getting, they were worse now.

As he drove through the town, he found the streets of Stone Temple lined with people, all of them with their eyes on his car once they saw that it was Wash inside. They knew that, more than likely, he was going to see Ava. When Tom stopped at an intersection, one man—a young man with a heavy, thick beard swaddling his face—raced over and knocked on Tom’s window and offered Tom a thousand dollars if he would simply let him come with them to see Ava.

The man’s sudden rushing of the car startled both Tom and Wash, but once Tom understood what was happening he only looked at the man quizzically and laughed. “What a crazy bastard,” he said, then he pressed the accelerator and continued on. For the rest of the drive to Ava’s no one else charged the car. While there was never any lack of people watching Tom and Wash as they passed, they kept to the side of the road and only shouted things or waved their signs or simply applauded. “You’d think we were the kings of England,” Tom said at one point. Then he whistled—a long, diminishing note—to further punctuate his disbelief. “I don’t think I’d wish this on anybody,” he said.

“We can’t even leave the house,” Wash said.

Tom nodded. “That’s what her mother told me.”

“Carmen’s her stepmom,” Wash corrected. He was wearing blue jeans and a light sweater and, just now, he noticed a stain on the front of it. He wondered how it had gotten past his grandmother.

“I know,” Tom said. “I remember the day we all met at the fair. But just because she didn’t give birth to Ava, that doesn’t mean Carmen’s not her mom. Parenting’s what you do. It’s a job. And Carmen took the job.” And then it was his turn to take stock of his clothing. His pants were dirty and the blue flannel shirt he wore had a torn pocket and smelled of motor oil, but it was the best he had.

“She’s great,” Wash said. “But Ava doesn’t like her.”

“That happens,” Tom said. “She probably figures Carmen is trying to replace her mom. But she can’t expect her old man to hoe his row in this world all by himself.” His face tightened. “It’s tough,” he added.

For the first time since his father had returned, Wash noticed that his father was wearing a wedding ring. A knot formed in his stomach. He hadn’t really considered the notion of his father remarrying in the time that he had been out of his life. He remembered his mother’s face—pale and round, her blue eyes sparkling, wrinkled at the corner from prolonged smiling and with a light dusting of freckles across her cheeks. And when he remembered his mother he remembered his mother and father together.

“Can I meet her?” Wash asked.

“Meet who?” Tom replied.

“Your wife.”

Tom’s brow furrowed. He was concentrating hard on the road—the people lining the narrow mountain road were beginning to grow in number again now that they were getting closer to Ava’s house. “What are you talking about, son? I’m not married.” Then, as if understanding, he looked down at his left hand. “This is the only wedding ring I’ll ever wear,” he said. And then they turned the final corner—waved through by the police blocking the road—and started up the steep hill to Ava’s house.

Tom parked the car near the front door and as he and Wash got out of the car he whispered, “Not sure I’m built for this.”

“You’ll be okay,” Wash replied.

Tom put his arm around the boy’s shoulders and the two of them knocked on the door together. As soon as the door opened Wash greeted Carmen. Tom did the same, making sure that she saw him remove his hat in a gesture of courtesy.

“I’ll be back around dark,” Tom said to Carmen. “You’ll let me know if he’s any trouble. But I don’t think he will be.” Then he patted Wash on the head and tousled the boy’s hair and steered him inside the house. Wash headed for Ava’s room. The two of them had hoped to leave the house and go into the woods as they usually did, but there were too many people outside. Too many things that could go wrong.

“Have fun,” Carmen said to Wash as he passed. Then she turned to Tom. “He’s never any trouble,” she said. “He’s practically family.”

Tom nodded. “That’s what I hear,” he said. “But it just sounded like the type of thing a parent’s supposed to say when they drop off their kid.” His hands fidgeted in his pockets. “I’m still getting the hang of all this,” Tom said.