April

April 3, Monday

The moment had come; the gavel fell.

“Come to order,” the heavy voice said, and the air itself became still and silent, waiting. “Go ahead, Patsy.”

The ancients had held their councils, in sacred groves, beneath holy mountains, gathered under each moon for each moon’s ritual. Still, in this different world, the rites were maintained.

In the past, powers were invoked. Today there were still spirits that presided and moved, unknown and unrealized but also undiminished, intervening as they always had in the decisions made. The words spoken were more than those speaking them knew.

“Mrs. Brown?”

There was a circle. Each one of them would be taken into it. Any tribal elder would have understood this prelude to the exercising of ritual power.

“Here.”

“Mr. Esterhouse?”

“Here.”

“Eliza?”

And now she herself was called.

“I am here.” Just the statement of presence, of existence, was as profound in itself as the ceremonial declarations used in other ages.

“Mr. Harris?”

“Here.”

“Mr. McCoy?”

“Right here.”

“Everyone’s present, Joe.” The acknowledgment was the closing of the circle.

“Thank you, Patsy. Jefferson County North Carolina Board of Supervisors is now in session.”

It was an act of creation. In this place, in this moment, a living thing was brought into existence. It was the merging of their will, their purposes, into a fire, alive in itself and beyond themselves. They were only the coals that were its fuel. The flame had power and authority, joined with the unseen powers that were gathered.

“Motion to accept last month’s minutes?”

“I’ll move that we accept last month’s minutes.”

“I’ll second that.”

“Motion and second,” Joe Esterhouse said. “Go ahead, Patsy.”

Eliza listened.

“Mrs. Brown?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Esterhouse?”

“Yes.”

“Eliza?”

No guidance. She still did not understand many of this councils’ rituals, but that would come. “I vote no.”

“Mr. Harris?”

“I vote yes.”

“Mr. McCoy?”

“Yes.”

“Four in favor, one opposed,” Patsy said.

“Motion carries,” Joe said. “Minutes are accepted.”

In times to come, she would be given words to speak.

“Next is receiving public comment,” Joe said. Eliza turned her thoughts outside the circle.

The doctor, the man of anger. No one else understood, not even him, but he was a spokesman. Eliza saw deep, that there was a fire in him, that he was speaking words given to him.

“Everett Colony, 712 Hemlock in Wardsville. I’m here, and all of us are here, because we thought there was supposed to be an announcement about the road. We were told the state funding decision would be made by April first. I’ve called the office here in Wardsville and I’ve called the Department of Transportation in Raleigh, and nobody can tell me anything. I think someone is trying to hide something—as they have been through this entire process. I would like to know two things. Why won’t anyone tell me anything, and has this road been funded or not?”

Joe Esterhouse, the leader, raised his hand. The single motion of authority silenced all others.

“I’ll discuss that,” Joe said.

He held in his hand a paper like fire itself. Eliza shrank from it.

“Received this today by special delivery, dated March thirty-first. Addressed to me as chairman.

“ ‘Mr. Esterhouse. The North Carolina Department of Transportation hereby informs the Jefferson County Board of Supervisors concerning project—’ bunch of project numbers and code sections and application numbers—‘that the funding for completion of Gold River Highway as described in application number—’ bunch more words, you can look at—‘has been approved.’ ”

“Approved?” The man facing them spoke and his fire lit the room. “What does that mean? I was told this board would vote before the road was approved. This is an outrage. Esterhouse, you’ve crossed the line here, and you’re not getting away with it.”

Again, Joe Esterhouse spoke. “I’m reading this letter and I’ll return to public comment when I’m finished. I’ll require quiet until then.”

Joe waited for the quiet to be complete. Next to her, Wade Harris wrote words on his papers, underlining them fiercely. Then Joe read again.

“ ‘The information in this letter is confidential and may be announced only at the next regularly scheduled meeting of the Board of Supervisors.’ Going on—‘Preliminary engineering plans will be provided for July meeting . . .’ Going on—‘Final acceptance will be contingent on vote of approval by your board by December 31.’ That’s the main points. Patsy, could you take this back to the office and make a dozen copies?”

“The copier takes a while to warm up, Joe.”

“Get it started then. And, Lyle, why don’t you wait on it back there so Patsy can be out here writing down the comments. We’ll resume the comments now, and anyone wants to see this letter complete before they speak, we’ll wait on them.”

The man facing them spoke again. “I don’t believe this.” The fire had subsided, down to hot coals. “This is incredible. I’ve never heard of any government department acting like this.”

Joe Esterhouse looked directly at the man. “Dr. Colony, I have to say I am in complete agreement with you on that.”

Those strange words were the beginning. The papers were brought from the offices; Eliza would not touch them.

But though there were many speakers, there was only one voice. And Eliza knew the voice.

There was also fear. They spoke of destruction and disturbance, though Eliza knew the one speaking through them had no fear.

Some spoke of justice, and injustice, and the burden they would carry unfairly. Some described the loss they would suffer. Always, with each word, Eliza was hearing more clearly a single voice, and one she knew well.

Do not desecrate, do not defile, do not violate.

It was the Warrior.

The Ancient One, far older than this people, even older than her own people, was speaking to her.

Do not desecrate, do not defile, do not violate.

She listened closely to the words of one man.

“I don’t even know who wants this road. Not Wardsville—it doesn’t go anywhere we want to go. And everyone says Gold Valley wants it, but I don’t know why. They don’t want to come here. It’s just going to be a road to nowhere.”

But deeper, beneath the man’s words, she heard the deeper voice, Do not desecrate, do not defile, do not violate.

Another voice spoke, but the deeper words were still the same.

“I live just two blocks from Hemlock Street, and if you build this big road, how am I supposed to sleep at night with trucks at all hours and kids drag racing and all that highway noise? Who’ll be using this road, anyway? It won’t be the residents of Mountain View. But who’ll have the traffic and noise right in their front yards? The residents of Mountain View. We’ll be the ones picking up the trash that those cars leave behind, and we’ll be the ones hiding in our homes for fear of crime, and we’ll be the ones who can’t use our own front yards because of cars flying through.”

But the Warrior was saying, Do not desecrate, do not defile, do not violate.

“Wait a minute.”

A different voice. From beside her, Wade Harris was speaking.

“Who do you think is going to be on this road, anyway? For Pete’s sake, half the people in Gold Valley are retired. We’re talking grandparents here, driving into Wardsville to buy groceries. What do you mean they’ll be throwing trash in your yards?

“And maybe the reason no one ever goes from Wardsville to Gold Valley or the other way is that they can’t. You say it won’t go anywhere? Well, that’s what it does now.” Suddenly his words had their own great strength behind them. “I’m tired of living on a road to nowhere.”

Those words . . .

She felt power against them but also power behind them. Two strong powers, two mountains moving slowly against each other.

From his words, there was more anger, and discord.

To Wade, the truth was simple, and he didn’t understand why the anger against him was so strong. He didn’t know that he was opposing a much greater strength than he could see, or that he even knew of. But Eliza knew that the anger was great because it was against more than one man.

Just as the other speakers were giving voice to the Warrior, Eliza had heard a different voice speaking through Wade Harris. In his few words, Eliza had heard a faint whisper of that voice, a voice she didn’t know.

The words went on, and Eliza felt her attention move from them.

The room was strange—old as any building, carved and ornamented, but neglected. The ceiling had images, unfamiliar to her, but broken in places, and patched and covered. One large corner was covered entirely. Even the room was in conflict with itself.

Then Joe Esterhouse spoke, and the discord ended. The anger remained. The conflict was between forces too great, and it was plain that the time for peace was still far off.

“We’ll get on with our business. You all have your agendas, and they include the items left from the last two months.”

“Joe?” Wade was speaking. “I’ve got a question.”

“Go ahead.”

“Is there any official estimate of what the traffic on Gold River Highway would be?”

“There is,” Joe answered. “Estimates were made in 1987.”

“Anything recent?”

“That would be the most recent.”

Wade spoke again. “I want to make a motion that we get some kind of new estimate. How does that work?”

“We can request it from the state or pay for it ourselves,” Joe said.

“Mr. Esterhouse?” It was a voice from the audience.

“I’ll recognize Mr. Stephen Carter of the Planning Commission.”

It was the young man from the other meetings.

“I know a person in the Department of Transportation district office in Asheville. I could get him to work up some quick estimates.”

“I object to this.” This was the man who always spoke first, Everett Colony. “He’s from Gold Valley. He’ll manipulate those numbers.”

“We are not accepting public comment at this time,” Joe said. “If you can do that, Mr. Carter, we’d certainly appreciate it. Lyle.”

What a strange man this Lyle was. So nervous. “Yes, Joe?”

“Work with Mr. Carter on that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And I don’t think we’ll even need a motion for that. Now, let’s get on with the agenda.”

Joe Esterhouse led them on. Eliza listened for direction, but she only heard the echoes from before, Do not desecrate, do not defile, do not violate.

The words rang in her ears!

She had nothing to say, nothing of her own and nothing given to her. The time for her to speak would come, but not yet.

And she watched the man next to her, Wade Harris. There was danger; the powers now in conflict were very strong.

“What a crackpot!” Wade stuffed his coat into the closet and made for the kitchen. “What do I want to eat?”

“Heat up an enchilada.” Cornelia was at the kitchen table reading a magazine.

“I figured I’d about seen it all,” Wade said, squinting at the shapes in the freezer. “But good old Eliza takes the cake.” He found the enchiladas. “She takes the fruitcake. She is the fruitcake. The whole meeting she doesn’t say a word but, ‘I vote no,’ in this solemn wheeze.” He closed his eyes and held his nose up in the air. “I vote: noooooo.”

“Does it make a difference?”

“What difference does any of it make? Change a zoning, appoint some bozo to the Recreation Commission. None of it makes a difference. So it’s all four to one, four to one. ‘I vote no.’ ”

Cornelia giggled. “I want to meet her.”

“Sure, do it. I don’t think she’s contagious. The one thing . . .” He punched the button on the microwave and sat at the table to wait. “The one thing is Gold River Highway. That makes a difference, and she might make the difference.”

“What about Louise Brown?”

“Yeah, exactly. She’s wavering.” He finally got himself slowed down to where he could look his wife right in the eye. “Corny, I want that road. I don’t think I’ve cared about anything since we moved here, but I want that road.”

“So Charlie Ryder can sell more houses?”

“Not for him, and not for what I’d make out of it, either. I don’t know.” The food was hot and he dumped it on a plate. “Maybe I just need to care about something once in a while. It’s almost . . . like I’ve found something that’s . . . that’s right.”

“Right, like in right and wrong?”

“That’s it, Corny. The road is right. All those Mountain View nazis are wrong. I want right to win. We’ve lived here for four years on this dead-end Gold River Highway road to nowhere, hating every minute. Now it might go somewhere.”

“Wardsville.”

“Right. Wardsville. But if that’s where it’s going, you know, I don’t mind. That’s where we’ll go with it.”

She smiled. “Then I’m with you, Wade. On to Wardsville.”

He raised a forkful of enchiladas as a salute. “On to Wardsville.”

April 10, Monday

Time to start.

The soil was dark, like he’d always remembered it. Always brought back a lot of memories.

He remembered plowing with a horse, walking beside his granddaddy. Would have been seventy-five years back. Pretty soon after that they’d got the first tractor.

That’d been the hard times, not that he’d known it. Chickens, the milk cows, the horse for riding. Big kitchen garden. They hadn’t known they were poor. They had all they needed.

Joe started the tractor. The blade bit the ground.

Turn over the soil, turn it over like everything got turned over. It was good soil, now, with years of fertilizer. Back then it’d been worn out with a century of tobacco taken from it. If his granddaddy or his daddy could see how much grew out of it now.

But those times were turned over and buried and the memory of them withering. It was only roots that dug down and back. No one saw roots, but they were there, pulling out from what was buried.

He was half done before he knew it. He knew this field, and the others, to where he could be doing this in the dark, hardly thinking. He could have plowed just by the smell of the soil.

Once it had been forest. Cherokee had lived on it. There were still arrowheads to be found, even in the fields. No telling how long they’d hunted up and down the creek before the settlers came.

They had a deed, signed by Thomas Jefferson himself, dated 1806. That family had been the Hardisons, and they cleared the fields and built a cabin by the creek, and then a house. Then the North had burned it and no one of that family had come back from the war. Jacob Esterhausy had bought the land when he came from Austria in 1868. It took all the money he had.

Into the next field, cutting into it.

That had been a big family. Dozen children and a big house that Jacob built for them, real big for the times. Joe’s own granddaddy had been one of the dozen.

Big empty house now for two old people. And no one after them.

Fields that would grow grass and scrub if no one plowed them. Then saplings and then the fields would be back to forest and the house gone and the memory of it withered. His own children left with the only living memory of the land as a farm and after them nothing.

Into the last field, tearing at the ground and leaving it scarred behind him. But the scars would be gone by fall, forgotten after that. Who would have known, twenty years ago, forty years, seventy years ago, he’d be here at this far end of time still plowing.

Leaves fallen in the creek from some lost autumn, and now one left, miles downstream, still riding the water, in unknown times so far from where it had grown.

He was on a long road with not much left ahead, and no going back, and it had been hard and a man might wonder what the use of it had been. What was the use of a road, when a man didn’t know where it was going? Or even if he thought he did. Was it any good to be godly, to try to be? A church sermon had good words, but at the end of life, it wasn’t words. It was what was true, and had the life been lived by what was true.

He let himself think about seventy years of plowing, as there wouldn’t be many more, or any.

The earth had so much life. It was the source of so much, of all life.

Pull the hoe through the dark dirt, open it to light, plant the seed. The life of one year reborn in the next.

Eliza worked the hoe, one slow row and then another, pulling and working, then planting and covering.

Give to the earth and it gives back so much, each turn of the circle.

Every beginning came from an end before it. There was no beginning or end. Every road returned to where it began because there was no beginning or end, only the appearance.

She understood this in part. She saw it each spring, when the seed became a plant, and each fall, when the plant became a seed. There was coming forth and returning, there was opening and closing, but they were only appearances of beginning and end.

Birth appeared to be a beginning, and death to be an end, but there was no beginning or end.

The Warrior had no beginning or end. If a man or woman did, it was only the appearance of it.

But thinking of her own husband, long dead, made her often wonder.

“That about does it, Gabe.” Randy tapped the papers on his desk to even them all up. “And I hope I see you again next year.”

It was funny with Gabe, how easy and friendly he was in his garage, and how uneasy he was with business details such as insurance.

“You’re sure it’s okay, Randy?”

“Just right. You don’t have a thing to worry about.”

“Thank you so much. It’s all above my head, you know.”

“Well, that’s my job, Gabe.” He was glad to be doing it, too, and now just a little light conversation to erase the nervous feelings. “And now tell me, have you had many more broken windshields to replace?”

“Broken windshields? Oh—hah! Yours is okay, isn’t it?”

“Not a single problem with it.”

“Good. You know, I did have another one just like it a few days ago. Roland Coates, in fact.”

“Mr. Coates? His window got broken, too? Well, I wonder if it was one of his own trucks that did it.”

“Might have been,” Gabe said. “It was just like yours, the exact same way. Except I still don’t think it was a truck. Never saw a pebble do that.”

“We’ll call it a freak accident. And it’s business for you either way.”

“Sure thing, Randy. Well, thanks again. Appreciate it.”

Gabe left and Randy set to filing and doing his own forms to send in the renewal, but he hadn’t got two minutes into it when he looked up.

“Randy?”

“Well, Jeremy, come right in. Sit down.” Randy wasn’t sure if he should be leaning forward or back for this exchange, as Jeremy wasn’t much of one to shout and scream, but he likely wasn’t here just to buy some insurance. Jeremy didn’t sit, though. He just stood in the door.

“Just up from Asheville for the afternoon,” he said. “I heard what happened at the meeting.” Then he kind of tilted his head, like they both knew something together. “You’re against the road, aren’t you?”

The desk felt solid enough. “Well, I’m just waiting awhile longer before I make up my mind. I’ve been hearing quite a few people’s opinions.”

Jeremy did not seem pleased by the answer.

“I was thinking people were pretty much against it.”

“Some are and some aren’t, and maybe more are against it, but it isn’t unanimous, including a certain mutual acquaintance, if you know who I mean.”

“The old fool? You aren’t listening to him, are you?”

“I’m listening to everybody, and there’s still months to go.”

That made Jeremy stop to think. “Aren’t you, um . . .” He seemed to be looking for just the right word. “Um, worried about what might happen if you do vote for the road?”

“I know what it’ll do to the neighborhood, and all the other concerns, as I’ve heard them all very clearly.”

“I mean, to you. Aren’t you worried about what might happen to you? Because of what’s already happened?”

Randy wasn’t too sure what Jeremy seemed to mean, especially as his tone didn’t sound natural.

“Well—when the next election comes around, I’m sure people will remember how I voted, one way or the other. Is that what you mean?”

“That’s not what I mean.” Jeremy stood looking at him, frustrated about something, and Randy didn’t know what to say. “Well, see you later, Randy.” And then he was gone.

April was the month. May, June, September, October, they were all good, but April was the big one. Wade had appointments stacked up for three weeks and the phone ringing off the hook. Corny working mornings to keep up with paper work.

Call the boss.

“Charlie, it’s Wade.”

“What do you want?” Charlie said.

“More money.”

“Forget it, I’m busy.”

That took care of the pleasantries.

“I heard something a couple weeks ago,” Wade said. “There’s a furniture plant in Wardsville, right where Gold River Highway would come into town. Somebody’s buying the place. And what I hear is that it might be so they can put in a grocery store.”

“Say that again. I didn’t get it. What about a grocery store?”

“Somebody might build a store in Wardsville where Gold River Highway would come into the town.” There. It always took at least a couple of times for him to get it.

“What? A grocery store?” Make that three times.

“It’s a rumor,” Wade said. “I think you should find out for sure.”

“What’s the name of this place?”

Did it have a name? “I don’t know. There’s no sign. I don’t know who’s buying it, either.”

“Wait a minute. You say it’s in Wardsville?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not in Gold Valley?”

“No.” One-syllable answers. He should be able to handle those.

“Then something’s wrong. I thought it was going to be in Gold Valley. Is this a done deal about the factory getting sold or just talk?”

“I think it’s a deal. And I need to go, I got a customer.”

“Why is it in Wardsville?”

“Talk to you later.” He hit the button. The man was going crazy.

The front door opened. Maybe he really did have a customer. He put on his happy face.

Then he put on his for-real happy face. “Man, I’m glad you’re here.”

“What a morning,” Corny said. “The bus never came. I had to take Lauren all the way to school.”

“I figured it was something. Hey, I had a couple in first thing from Charlotte. They came because they heard about Gold River Highway.”

“How did they know?”

“Some cousin in Asheville called them. The word is getting out. Look at this.” He tossed her the newspaper, the Wardsville Guardian. “Believe it or don’t, we have an ally in Luke Goddard.”

“ ‘Gold River Highway Funded,’ ” she read. “ ‘In another secretive Board of Supervisors meeting, Joe Esterhouse announced that the state has funded the unpopular and wasteful Gold River Highway extension.’ I think Luke is not happy.”

“I think he is not. But there’s no such thing as bad publicity. That was the only report anywhere about the road, but now the Asheville paper has picked it up and the word’s getting out. So I say, thank you, Luke. Anyway, there’s a pile of offers and contracts to go through.”

“It’s nice to be needed,” she said. “And Meredith says she will definitely be home next weekend for Easter.”

“Easter?” Wade checked his calendar. Easter was always huge.

“She would love to go rafting.”

“The outfitter’s going to be booked solid and I’ll be in the office the whole weekend, and I’ll need you here, too. I’ll get some tickets for later in the week.”

“We could have Meredith and Lauren show models.”

What a concept. “Do you think they would?”

“I could ask.”

“You’re pure gold, Corny. And genius, too.”

April 12, Wednesday

Louise was just beside herself. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d so looked forward to a morning.

Becky was cheery and Stephanie had been laughing, and even Serena was in. And they only had one appointment for all of them for the next hour.

“Is she coming?” Becky asked and everybody jerked around to look at the clock. It was still five minutes till.

“Of course she is.” Louise looked back at her books of styles. Well, she still was not one hundred percent sure about this. The more she looked, the more she wasn’t sure at all.

But that was part of the excitement! Her fingers were just itching to get started.

“There she is!”

They all saw her at once, stepping down the sidewalk as grand as the queen of England. Becky was at the door and swept it open, and Eliza swept in.

Oh, what hair!

“Eliza! What a treat it is to see you!”

“Thank you, Louise. So much.” Eliza was just glowing. “How I appreciate you doing this.”

“Thank you for coming!”

And Eliza smiled her smile that seemed like it had worlds in it. “Thank you for making me welcome.”

“You are welcome. You’re always welcome.” Louise put on her stern face for business. “And I said this is on the house. It’s my gift for you.” Then she giggled. “I just hope we can come up with something you’ll like!”

“I can hardly imagine what you think we should do. And thank you for your gift. I wouldn’t have money for a luxury like this.”

“Then all the more I’m glad to be doing it. Now, this is Serena, and Becky, and Stephie. Serena, you start her at the sink to wash and shampoo. Use the . . .” Louise put her hand up to run it through the lightning bolts of black and white and gray. This would be the first important decision. “Use the moisturizing one, the Glisten. And the cream rinse.” She’d never felt anything like it.

They settled her down in the chair and she leaned back, and Serena turned on the water. And while the girls washed and rinsed, Louise went through it all one more time.

No perm, of course. That wouldn’t be right at all, not for Eliza. And no coloring. There was nothing that could improve on those streaks of black and white. Just cutting and shaping. And if she couldn’t make something marvelous with what she had to work with, she didn’t deserve to ever touch a pair of scissors again.

She made her final decisions. She was ready.

Doctors, lawyers, funeral directors. Businesses might have hard times and close up, but those three couldn’t be got rid of.

Joe looked in the front door of the funeral home. The Chapel room was empty. Roger Gallaudet was in the back office.

“Joe?” Roger didn’t look particularly busy. “Well, what are you doing up this way?”

“Had a question.” He didn’t much want an answer to it.

“Go ahead.”

“About Mort Walker.”

“Oh, sure. What’s on your mind?”

“Gordon Hite says the doctor called it a heart attack.”

“I think that was the cause of death on the forms.”

“I suppose you didn’t think any different.”

Roger sat up and scratched his head. “What is it on your mind, Joe?”

“He was a friend. I’m just wondering if he was taken care of right. Some doctors might not look real close if they think they already know what they’d find.”

Roger was still scratching where his hair used to be. “Is there some reason you’re asking?”

“There might be.”

“That’s not a good thing, Joe. Are you thinking Everett Colony missed something? Or that he was covering something up?”

“I wonder if Mort might have died of something else than a heart attack.”

“Well, he had a big wound on his forehead, if that’s what you mean. I cleaned it up myself. But that was from his fall. He was up in the loft throwing down hay. And it might have been that the heart attack didn’t kill him but the fall did. That gash would have done it.”

“And the gash would have come after the heart attack.”

“Must have, Joe. Wouldn’t make sense the other way.”

“I suppose.”

“Well . . . now, he might have fallen, just from losing his balance. Then hit his head, and that caused the attack.”

“You could tell he had a heart attack?”

“No, of course not. Just from Everett filling in the form.” Roger was drumming his fingers on his desk. “Wait a minute. What are you talking about?”

“What I said. Did Dr. Colony make sure about that heart attack or just take it for granted?”

“I don’t question Everett Colony.”

“He knows his business.”

“He does, but that’s not what I mean. I mean I don’t tangle with him. He doesn’t like questions.”

It was enough. “Thank you, Roger. I’ll leave it at that. And Gordon Hite didn’t think it was anything but a heart attack, either?”

“Gordon doesn’t like trouble any more that Everett likes questions.”

“I suppose.”

They stepped back to look. The girls hardly knew what to say, but they all started talking at once, chattering and excited. But Louise knew exactly what to say.

“It’s perfect, Eliza.”

Eliza turned to see the mirror for the first time since she’d come in. Her hand flew up to her mouth and then she froze and stared.

Louise waited. Some people might not have known what Eliza was thinking, but Louise had seen that expression before. And she was so excited she could pop.

Black, white, and every gray and silver in between. But now each vein had its place. And it was all still long, but not wild. But it was wild. That hair always would be! Now it swept around her face instead of shooting out from it.

“It’s marvelous.” Eliza touched it, very carefully, feeling what had been done. “It’s splendid—Louise. I could never have imagined.” She laughed. “Is it really me?”

“More than ever,” Louise said. “Let me show you. It’s easy as anything to do. You’ll brush it back around this way, and just put about four hairpins under here, and two more here. See? That’s all it needs. And when you braid it up at night, it’s shorter on the sides.”

Eliza was still staring and staring. “How did you know?”

“It’s just what I do, dear.”

Eliza stood out of the chair and took Louise’s hands and held them, and looked right into her eyes. “You don’t even know what you have done.”

April 14, Friday

“Now, you let me know if you have any questions,” Wade said. “I’ll be right here all morning. And . . . let me check . . .” He looked at the map in his hand one more time before he handed it to them. “Yeah, looks good. The red stars are the models and they’re all unlocked. Just help yourself.”

And off they went. A newly promoted corporate vice-president from Asheville and his sales account manager wife. If Wade could have gone with them, it would have been a sale, guaranteed. On their own . . . seventy percent chance. But they were just the first ones in, noon on Friday, and the long weekend was only starting. He barely made it to his desk before the door opened again. Real fast glance back across the big room.

Young lady. Rugby shirt, new blue jeans. Real young, too young to be buying a house. Checking out the main room. College kid. Then a younger girl, her little sister.

Attractive girls. Knock-down ravishing gorgeous, actually, and then their mother came in, every bit as gorgeous and more. Wade was there.

“Hi, sweetie, you made it,” he said, and gave Meredith a big hug.

What days these had been. Planting, warmth, growth, and now the transformation of the whole forest. In the full year, of all the climaxes and riches, this moment had power that no other did. In just days the sky disappeared, the trees were absorbed, everything changed. Everything.

The leaves became everything.

And of all times, dear Louise—dearest Louise—had chosen this moment to work her own unfurling. Eliza would never have imagined, but just as the trees, she herself had been transformed! She still wasn’t sure of what it meant, but there was significance.

Now it was time to be out and be seen. She wasn’t ashamed, but she felt strange, displaced, that there would be attention. Did the trees feel this way?

“Well, Eliza! Is that you? What did you do?” Annie Kay even came from behind the counter to draw close.

But Eliza could only laugh. “I don’t know.”

“Well, who did that?”

“My friend. Louise, my dear friend. Look at me, Annie Kay. Would you ever have imagined?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“It’s spring. Everything is changing—and so am I!”

“Then I have a little surprise, too. Eliza, just stand there. I’ll be right back.”

Annie Kay hustled off, through the shelves and into the back rooms. Eliza stood. The smells of the place surrounded her, new and springlike. Flowers. Herbs. So many things. Then someone was coming back through the aisles, shorter than the tall shelves and unseen among them, but not unheard, and then bursting out right in front of her.

It was Jeanie. Jeanie, always so full of life and energy. Her hair was in a long braided tail and her eyes open and all-seeing.

“Jeanie!”

Jeanie put her hands on her hips, as she always did, and her voice was like the sharp silhouette of the mountains against the sky.

“Mother!”

“Yes, child?”

“What have you done to your hair?”

“Nothing.” She always felt like laughing with Jeanie. “Louise did it.”

“Who is Louise?”

“My friend.”

“I never know what you’re going to do next.”

Eliza had to laugh. “Neither do I!”

“What a day. What a beautiful day.” Randy was on the porch swing looking down over the front yard, which Kyle had just mowed yesterday, and Sue Ann’s tulips were as bright as light bulbs, and all freshly tended from where she’d been working all morning. “Sue Ann, why don’t you come out here and just help me enjoy it?”

“I will,” she said from inside the screen door. “I’ll be right there.”

Good Friday. Some years Easter was too early to really be spring, but this year the timing could not have been more perfect.

“There you are,” he said as she came out. “And look at that.” She had a tray of iced tea and a few little snacks. “I was thinking it had all been perfect before, but I hadn’t realized what I was missing.”

“It is beautiful out here, isn’t it,” Sue Ann said.

She’d worked so hard to get the tray ready that she hadn’t even gotten cleaned up from weeding and planting. She even still had her gardening sandals on.

“Now, don’t you move,” Randy said. He jumped up and ran into the house himself, right into the kitchen, and right back out in just a moment with a wet washcloth.

“What are you doing?” Sue Ann smiled as bright as the tulips.

“Making you a little more comfortable.” He slipped off her sandals, one at a time, and wiped off the bits of grass and dirt. “You’re always working so hard.” Then he got back to his chair and leaned back and there they were, the two of them, with a beautiful yard, and a comfortable house with a relaxing front porch, and a dear family, and each other.

“It is a beautiful day.” He handed her a cracker. “And a beautiful place to be enjoying it.” He filled up her iced tea glass. “And you’re the most beautiful of all.”

There was the Yukon pulling in. Smiling people getting out, strolling toward the office.

“Welcome back,” Wade said, opening the door. “Everything okay?” He couldn’t remember the wife’s name.

“Just wonderful,” she said.

“You saw everything you wanted?”

“So far,” the husband said. “I think we’ll just drive around some on our own.” Whatever their names were. Smith, whatever.

“Just help yourself. Did I give you that map? Yeah, that’s it. I’ll give you some more information, too, before you go.” Turn to Corny as the couple left. “Did they fill in that information sheet?” Another couple was coming up to the office.

“Lauren’s putting it into the spreadsheet right now.”

“Great.” Anyone who took the time to write down their address was already twenty percent sold. “You know, they don’t call it Good Friday for nothing.”

Turn to the windows. No, back to Corny. She was even better than the view.

“You know, I love this.”

“Selling houses, Wade?”

“I don’t know. There’s something about it all.” So then he had to think. “Forget Charlie. This is about building a place. People move in and they connect and live.” Right. “Their roads are here. The roads they’re on come through here, just like a real road.”

“Some people don’t want new roads.”

“Forget them, too. I don’t care if they show up with pitchforks and torches and arrest me. I’ve sold almost three hundred houses in here in four years. This fire’s lit, and they can’t blow it out now.”

Fool newspaper man, he’d done it again. Standing right there beside Joe’s truck. Waiting for him.

He pushed open the door from the hardware store.

“Joe! Well, what a coincidence, you just happening to be here. And I was wanting to ask you a few questions! Didn’t that work just right?”

“What do you want, Luke?”

“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you. It’s been almost two weeks since the board meeting and I never have got to ask you about the road.”

Joe just waited.

“Well, anyway, everybody knows you tried to hide everything, and how you wouldn’t announce it until they made you. Not a peep out of the state, and not a peep out of Patsy or anyone, and when Everett Colony finally was there demanding that you say whether we’d got the road or not, you finally admitted we had.”

There was nothing to say.

“So, Joe, everyone’s pretty upset with you, and they’re all throwing around those accusations. Aren’t you going to say something? I’m only worried that nobody’s hearing your side of it.”

“You’re not telling the truth, Luke.”

He laughed at that. “The only thing that’s true is what people think is true.”

Eliza walked slowly, each careful step an effort on the dusty road. But she kept on. There were tired days like this on occasion, when she felt the effort of every step.

She shifted the heavy bag from one hand to the other. Annie Kay was so generous, saving out for her wheat and rice and beans, and any other useful thing. And she’d offered to even drive them up to the cabin.

But these were Eliza’s burdens to bear.

So she walked, slowly, step by step, along the dusty road.

It had been a nice day, with both of them home, and Louise had a nice supper of chicken and rice and carrots. They hadn’t been in a hurry at all. The kitchen was clean before seven o’clock.

Now they each had a bowl of ice cream, watching the news and just as comfortable as they could be.

So, of course, there had to be pictures and talking about the war. Byron didn’t even wait for her to say anything.

“He’s all right.”

“I hope so,” she said.

“He is. Matt can take care of himself. And they’re all looking after each other anyway.”

She watched tanks and ruined buildings. “When he left, it was like he’d died. That’s how it seemed to me.”

“He’s coming back, Louise. Just be patient.”

“That’ll be a day to celebrate, when he does.”

April 16, Sunday

Easter! Finally. Louise had on her bright yellow dress, and she’d been for months waiting to wear it. And right in front of the church was a whole long row of tulips exactly the same color, and another row exactly the same red as Byron’s tie.

All the other ladies were as bright as the flowers. They were a whole garden! The children were in their little dresses and white shirts, and their hair combed and brushed. Now, this was spring.

Maybe it was warmer now and the flowers were blooming, but Easter was what really made it spring.

They’d sing Easter hymns and hear a good Baptist Easter sermon, and everyone would be there.

Oh, what fun!

Up the steps, Rose beside him like always. Old granite church walls, big wood doors. Marker United Methodist hadn’t changed since they’d got married there.

Third pew on the right. Leonard Darlington and Maggie in front of them. They’d been married there, too. Forty years ago.

Other farmers and their wives filling in. Not many young folks.

Pastor was an old man, too. He’d come two years ago. Most pastors who came were just biding time till they’d retire.

Everybody was looking nice and tidy, all made up, Kyle such a treat in his new suit and Kelly with her hair all done up. Sue Ann just as pretty as a picture. They parked on Main Street and walked to the Episcopal church right beside the courthouse and made to look like it. Easter Sunday already—how time flew by. It was this time of year that morning sunlight came through the stained-glass windows right onto the altar. Those windows were worth every penny.

The little children were all lined up in front like a row of dolls, just like the top shelf in the kitchen where she had all the little porcelains. They were singing all the songs they learned in Sunday school, fidgeting and sitting down and standing up and being little children. They hardly knew anyone was watching, they just concentrated on singing, or on nothing. Louise was remembering when Angie was little like that, and when Matt was. And thinking of Matt made her squeeze Byron’s hand.

“Corny. I can’t eat another thing.” The table stretched a mile in front of him, covered. Waffles. Sausage. Eggs.

“You’ve eaten enough anyway,” she said.

They were all in the same stupor. The girls were done and gone to the kitchen. Wade looked across the wreckage at his wife.

“I could sleep till noon.”

“That’s one hour.”

“Noon tomorrow.”

“We’re rafting tomorrow, remember?”

Randy stood up and shared his hymnbook with Sue Ann. The choir had their purple shawls on, and they had a trumpet for “Christ the Lord Is Risen Today.” Wonderful addition to the service, just wonderful. Very touching. Very fitting.

A strenuous walk, through the forest, up the side of the mountain. Eliza did not hurry but accepted the difficulty of the climb, and the value it gave to the height.

Finally she sat, on a fallen tree, with the immensity of the valley before her. The trees were cast in fresh green, and the torrent of unfurling was clothing the mountain.

“And what happened in that cave on that morning?” The farmers and wives were all straight and still, as was proper for church, while the pastor read his sermon to them.

“He arose, he arose,” Louise singing as loud as anybody.

“And what does it mean to us?” the rector asked.

Randy noticed that Everett Colony and his wife were sitting a few rows forward from where they usually did, as far as he could from Roland Coates, and Roland and Miranda were returning the favor.

“Could something that happened two thousand years ago have any importance in our lives today?”

In fact, now that he looked around, Randy was noticing that there were a few families there in that back corner with the Coates, and a space between them and the rest of the congregation. Roger and Grace Gallaudet were back there, and Ed Fiddler and Emma.

“What relevance does this event, this story, this resurrection, if you will, have for us? I believe we each need to answer that question for ourselves.”

It was surely just a coincidence, but those in the back corner were the families who’d said they were in favor of Gold River Highway, sort of cut off from everyone else who was against it.

“Why do we, today, need that resurrection of long ago?”

“To think, He would die for us!” The pastor waved his Bible and Louise glued her eyes onto it. “And you can’t ignore it. Every man, woman, and child will have to decide what they’re going to do about that. What side will you be on today?”

The sharp edges of the mountain ridges, across the valley from her, and far off, also, drew hard lines against the sky. As if they were saying, Here is mountain, and, Here is no mountain, and the line between mountain and empty sky is hard and unmoving.

Often there were shades and depths in the Warrior. Now there was a boundary, dark and light separated.

Wade opened his eyes to see what his ears were hearing.

The television was on, right in front of him. “Brothers and sisters, He did die for each of us, for me and for you.” Shiny hair, shiny teeth, shiny voice.

“What’s that for?” Wade asked, everything still blurry.

“It’s Easter.”

“Oh.”

“Once a year we should watch a church service. It’s good for you.”

“Like broccoli.” He’d got his focus working and he stared at the bright, shiny screen. He made himself pay attention. Corny was right, it was Easter.

“Do you love anyone enough to die for them?” the teeth asked.

April 20, Thursday

Potatoes. Celery looked nice. The carrots didn’t, but what was a roast without them? Louise pushed her cart down the vegetable aisle, looking for anything that might spice up dinner. King Food just wasn’t the place to look for surprises.

It was always crowded this time of the afternoon, and they would run out of things soon. She kept looking. Back to the produce line.

A pile of turnips, of all things. She smiled at the thought of Byron finding a great big turnip on his plate beside his roast.

She stopped beside Humphrey King loading up the soup shelf.

“Now, where did these turnips come from?”

“Howdy, Louise. Those are from Duane Fowler’s greenhouse.”

“They’re the best I’ve ever seen,” she said. “But the carrots could use some improvement.”

“There’ll be more in a couple days.”

“Then I’ll be back.” She started moving, but Humphrey called her back.

“Louise? I just want you to know that not everyone in Mountain View is against the highway. I’d be glad to get some new customers.”

“I’m glad to know that, Humphrey.”

“Charlie. You wanted me to call?”

“Yeah, where’ve you been? I haven’t heard from you.”

Wade took a few seconds to put his feet up on the desk. “I’ve got better things to do.”

“Like what?”

“Sell houses.”

“Since when have you been selling houses?”

Same old lovable Charlie. “Since when haven’t I? It’s April. People buy houses in April. Seven so far this month, done deals. Twenty more prospects to follow up.”

“You could give me a report once in a while.”

“You get all the paper work.”

“I don’t read papers. You know how much paper people send me?”

“That sounds like a personal problem, Charlie. Hey, did you ever find out about that grocery store?”

“Oh yeah, I know that story, down to how many spaces in the parking lot. You don’t need to worry. Nobody’s stopping that thing.”

“So, they’re tearing down the factory?”

“What factory?”

“The factory in Wardsville, where they’re building the store.”

“What store?”

“The grocery store.”

“They’re building a grocery store in Wardsville?”

“That’s what you just said.”

“I didn’t say that. Factory, huh? I’ll find out. Didn’t you say something about a factory before?”

Wade could only stare at the phone. Charlie’s voice kept coming.

“Forget that. I want to talk about Gold River Highway.”

“We got the funding, we wait for July to see the plans.”

“No waiting. I’m putting it in the ads. Big new road, buy your house before prices go up.”

“It’s not a road yet.”

“I think it is. You said you’d get it through the county board.”

“No I didn’t.”

“You said it was three to two.”

“No I didn’t. I said I didn’t know how Louise Brown would vote. It’s two to two, with her on the fence, and the vote isn’t till December. So don’t put any road in the ads.”

“December’s too long to wait. We’ll lose the whole year, and we’ll lose the shopping center, too.”

No. Don’t try to figure it out. “I’d be right with you, Charlie, but it really could go either way.”

“Then get to that lady and make a deal. How much will it take?”

“Charlie, what is your problem? What happens if I offer Louise money and she blows the whistle? Because the first thing she’ll do is tell me to stuff it, and then she’ll tell the other board members, and it’ll be in the newspaper the next day. I’m the only guy on this whole board who even knows how to take a bribe.”

That shut the guy up. For six seconds. “Give me her number.”

“Forget it. You can look it up yourself,” Wade said.

“She’s a politician,” Charlie said. “There’s never been a county supervisor that couldn’t be bought. What’s the point of even getting elected?”

“Charlie. You call her, I quit. I mean it. I will flat out quit.”

“What’s your problem, Wade? Since when do you care?”

“I’m saying that that’s not how it works out here. I don’t want the whole Gold Valley project to end up on the trash heap, and I personally don’t want to end up in jail, and if you talk to Louise Brown, you will do both of those.”

That bought twelve seconds, and when Charlie finally got his mouth moving again, he was finally just a little humiliated.

“So what am I supposed to do?” he asked.

“Just wait.”

His humility was all used up. “That’s not good enough! Wade, I want that road and I want it now! I said there was no stopping it, and there better not be!”

Bang!

Charlie had slammed his phone down real hard, and Wade was back to staring at his.

He walked out into the main room of the lodge with the big fireplace and beams and windows. Beautiful place. Take a deep breath, look out at the mountains. Ayawisgi. What did Ayawisgi mean, anyway?

Then he made his own call.

“This is Joe Esterhouse.”

Joe and Charlie within two minutes of each other. He might get vertigo.

“Joe, this is Wade Harris. Hey, I’m sorry to call—I know you don’t like people interrupting you with calls. I’ll be real quick. Did you ever find out anything about Gold River Highway? You didn’t sound like you’d be able to, but I thought I’d ask.”

Short pause. “I did find out some,” Joe said. “Not much yet. It’s someone in Raleigh behind it, but I don’t know who. Somebody devious.” Another pause. “I think we need to talk, Wade.”

“Yeah, I think so, too. Uh . . . man, it’s busy these next couple weeks. Maybe before the board meeting in May?”

“I could do that.”

“Okay. If something else opens up before then, I’ll call. Hey, Joe, thanks. I’ll see you.”

“Sue Ann, now I think that’s about the last thing I ever expected you to fix for dinner.”

“Is it all right?” She looked almost fearful. “I saw them at the store and I remembered my mother’s recipe.”

“Well, of course it’s all right, sweetie, just a little of a surprise. I can’t even think when was the last time I had turnips.”

“There’s ham I could fix real quick.”

“No, I wouldn’t hear of it. Now, I’ll get Kyle and Kelly, and you finish whatever you need to, and we’ll all just sit down and enjoy those.”

“I think I will warm up some ham,” Sue Ann said. Poor thing, she must have been fretting all afternoon. “Just to make sure everyone has enough to fill up on.”

“You do whatever you want, dear, because I don’t think I can remember a dinner you’ve made that wasn’t just delicious, and now I’m sure looking forward to tonight’s.”

“You should have heard him,” Wade said. Man, he was looking forward to supper. It smelled good, too. “Blew about every gasket he had.”

“More than usual, you mean?” Corny said.

“Way more. I’ve never heard Charlie that out of control.” Supper and then bed. He could sleep twelve hours. “He wanted me to bribe Louise for her vote on the road.”

“Louise?”

“Yeah. Louise. As if she’d even know what a bribe is. Hey, what’s that cooking?”

“Stroganoff.”

“So when I say I won’t talk to her, Charlie wants her number.”

“No. Really?”

“Really. Try to picture Charlie Ryder sweet-talking Louise.” He did have to try. “Can you even imagine that?”

“I don’t know her as well as you do.”

“It doesn’t take long. Unless you’re Charlie. He’d never figure her out.” He was hungry, he was tired, his brain was spinning too fast from the whole long day. “People really are different here, Corny.”

“You’ve said that a lot.”

“Yeah, I guess. But this afternoon, talking to Charlie, and then I called Joe Esterhouse. Night and day. Or compared to Louise, either. Or even to Randy. Charlie and I go way back, but I’m getting real fed up with him. He’s such a slimeball.”

“Then wash your hands, Wade, because dinner is served.”

Byron was just staring at his dinner plate, and then up at her.

“What’s come over you?” he said.

“Nothing’s come over me. They’re turnips.”

“I can see they’re turnips.”

“People have turnips for dinner all the time. Why shouldn’t we?”

He was back staring at them. “I had my fill of turnips when I was a boy and we couldn’t afford better.”

“You can eat your roast plain, or you can eat it with turnips. It doesn’t matter a bit to me what you do.”

“I don’t know what’s come over you. Everybody’s acting senseless.”

“What? Did somebody try to feed you turnips at lunch today?”

“Of course not. It was Mr. Coates.”

“Mr. Coates being senseless?” She was feeling a little sorry for him. He had been worrying so much over the furniture factory. “Has something else happened?”

“No, it’s not that, and he’s not being senseless, not Mr. Coates. But he came up to me today, right out on the floor, and it wasn’t even break or lunch time, and he said, ‘Byron, what do you hear about this road over the mountain, out to the interstate?’ ”

“Gold River Highway? Why was he talking about that?”

“That’s what I mean, people are acting strange. I said, ‘Well, I hadn’t thought about it much, to tell the truth,’ and he said, ‘Then let me tell you, Byron, that road’s important. You be thinking about it.’ And then he turned right around and was back in his office. Now, what do you make of that?”

Louise just shook her head. “I couldn’t guess. Did he talk to anybody else about it?”

“Not that I saw, and I would have. No, it was just me.”

“Well, Byron, you’ve been there as long as anybody. Maybe he really wants to know what you think, just like he said.”

“Then that would be the first time,” Byron said. And he’d gone and eaten half the mess of turnips without even noticing.

April 21, Friday

Knock on the door.

“That’ll be him,” Joe said. He took himself out to the front door. Sun pouring through it. “Afternoon, Marty. You come on in.”

“Hi, Joe. Thanks.” Marty Brannin followed him back to the kitchen. “Well, hello, Miss Rose.”

“Good afternoon, Marty,” she said. “That’s been a long drive for you today from Raleigh. And you aren’t even home yet.”

“At least I’m back in the mountains. I just thought I’d stop in here to talk a little before I got back to the house.”

“I appreciate that,” Joe said. They sat at the table and Rose was at the stove with a pot of stew.

“I can’t even think of the last time I was sitting at this table,” Marty said. “Must be ten years.”

“Not much has changed,” Rose said, and Marty laughed.

“And that’s a good thing,” he said. “Oh, look at that!”

He’d caught sight of the cherry pie Rose had cooling by the window.

“We’ll be expecting you to have a piece,” Rose said.

“I won’t even be polite and pretend to say no,” Marty said. “I’d love it. I’ve been smelling it since I came in. It just took me a minute to find it.”

They sat there a few minutes more. Rose served them each a piece of the pie and Marty gobbled his down.

“I skipped lunch,” he said partway through, and, “Best pie in the state,” when he was finished.

Rose thanked him for the compliment, and Joe allowed himself a smile. Rose wouldn’t put much store in a politician’s flattery.

Then it was time for business. Marty shook his head.

“Well, Joe, it’s a mess there in the statehouse. I’m afraid I still can’t give you much of an answer about your road, and I’ve got a lot more questions myself now. But I’ve dug out a few things and I’ll give you the short version of it all.”

“That’s all I’d want.”

“Even the short version’s not real short. I started by asking how that grant got stuck in the Clean Air Act. There’s supposed to be a revision trail so you can answer questions like this. Well, I’ve been through the Commerce Committee to the Technology and Communications

Committee to the Energy Committee to the Transportation Committee, and right back from there to where I started.

“Anyway, there’s this section on research on improving roads to reduce emissions and travel time and congestion. And that’s where the funding for this grant was.”

“Not much congestion around here.”

“That’s what I would have said. Of course this bill doesn’t mention Gold Valley or Wardsville, just the list of qualifications for the project— which is what got you wondering. I’ve never seen anything like it on any transportation funding.

“So I found where the committee reviewed one version of the bill without this specific project, and then later when they voted on it, the section had just sort of magically been added. It was finally the Transportation Committee chairman who remembered anything, and he said he thought it was a request from the Appropriations Committee. And there are eighteen people on the Appropriations Committee, and that’s the biggest snake pit of the whole House.”

A fool mess, and just what anyone could expect from that bunch in Raleigh. “This kind of thing happen very often there?” Joe asked.

“I don’t think so. But I guess I don’t know. I’ve been there twenty years and I haven’t ever seen it done this particular way. But now that I have, I can see how someone could get away with it. It wouldn’t work with an interstate or U.S. route, because the federal government would have to get involved. Even state roads would be more complicated. But county roads are under all those radars. The only catch is you—your Board of Supervisors has to approve it if it’s a county road.”

“I suppose they expected that wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I bet they’d already investigated you and Wade and Mort and decided they’d have a majority. It looks to me like someone’s been through all the angles on this deal.”

“So who would that be, Marty?”

“Right. Someone with some clout in Appropriations. That’s the short answer. That narrows it down to five or six of the eighteen.”

“I’d still be interested to know who it was.”

“The next step is getting to the clerk of the Appropriations Committee and digging around a little.”

“That’ll be up to you.”

“Well, Joe, that’s why I thought I’d stop in for a visit. Part of me wants to follow this through, sort of on general principles. I’m long past trying to clean up the muck at the statehouse, but I still think people shouldn’t get away with tricks like this. There should be a bit of a fuss, at least.

“But, it’s going to take time, and I’ll probably have to assign somebody specifically to do the digging, and I don’t know if it’s really worth the effort when there’s so much else that needs to get done.”

Marty stopped and squinted his eyes and gave Joe a look. “So I thought I’d ask you.”

And Joe took his time to think about that. “I think I’d rather you did, Marty.”

“Now, that’s interesting. We both know that this road is somebody’s underhanded little project, but of course most roads are. And I hear there’s a fight brewing in Wardsville over the final vote. But even knowing all that, I’d still expect you to just shrug and let it work itself out. Sure, you might call me about it, like you did. But at this point you’d say, Never mind. Is there something else? Besides all the usual Raleigh antics?”

Joe took his time to answer that, too. “That might be.”

“With you, that means yes, but you don’t want to tell me yes.”

Joe smiled a little. “That might be.”

“Then I’ll just be quiet and do as I’m told. But are there any clues that would make it easier for me?”

“There’s a man on the board, name of Wade Harris, and he works for a developer who’s building all the houses up in Gold Valley. Charlie Ryder, he says, in Raleigh. Now, you know developers. Wade says this Charlie Ryder is sure wanting the road built. Enough that Wade got suspicious and asked me to make some calls.”

“Charlie Ryder. I’ll look him up. But even if he is, is that what you’re looking for?”

“I have a thought, and it’s bothering me.” He had to stop, to decide what to say. “I don’t care much to know who’s behind the road or how they pulled their tricks or what they even want from it.

“Marty, if you can find who’s behind this road, I just want to know one thing.” Rose had turned around from the stove to listen. “I want to know if they’re evil.”

April 25, Tuesday

“I did it.”

Cornelia looked up from the sofa. “What?”

“I quit.” Wade dropped his briefcase by the front door and then himself onto the sofa next to her. Corny waited for him to stop moving.

“Tell me what happened,” she said.

“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know why. Charlie called and we screamed at each other like usual. But this time . . . I don’t get it.”

“I’ll just sit here and listen,” Cornelia said. “And I’ll let you know if I figure out what you’re saying.”

“Okay. This is what he said. He wants to know who’s buying the furniture place. I said I didn’t know, I’d call this Coates guy and ask. No. We can’t let him know it’s Charlie trying to find out. He asked if I could break in.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. That’s what he said. So when I told him to forget it, he said he’ll make his own offer for the building.”

“Now you’re kidding.”

“No.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he wants to develop it into a shopping center. It’s the wrong location and it’s too small. I don’t know. But it sounded like someone is pushing him.”

“Pressuring him?”

“Yeah. The way he was talking. So I asked him why he wanted to know, and he wouldn’t tell me. So I told him I’d quit if he didn’t tell me what was going on, and he still didn’t. So I quit.”

“This is for real?” Corny said.

“Yes. It is. I’m not putting up with this anymore. Charlie doesn’t believe me, but I don’t care. I told him end of May. June first, I’m out of that office.”

“What will you do, Wade?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything! But it sure feels great.” Maybe great wasn’t the right word. “Let me just sit. I think I’ve blown a fuse.”

“Everything will be okay.”

He could even close his eyes. “Sure, it’s okay. Now I need a job.” He did close his eyes. “So what do I want to do when I grow up?”

“When would you ever grow up?”

April 28, Friday

“I think we’re half done, at least.” Randy had to stand and stretch, with his back sore from hunching over the table all afternoon and his eyes seeing spots from looking at page after page of the tax ledger book.

“We’ll finish Monday,” Patsy said. She looked a bit bleary herself.

“I suppose most counties do it all with their computers, but it’s not really that much work for just twice a year. And someday we’ll foreclose on some of these. When did the county ever do that last?”

“Eight years ago, we had a lawyer do all the work. Most of them paid and the county only closed on fifteen or so, and it hardly covered what the lawyer cost.”

“That doesn’t surprise me a bit.

He was still standing and thinking it would be so much nicer if Patsy at least had a window down here in the middle of the courthouse basement, when a cloud covered her door.

“Look at you, Randy!”

“We’re just finishing for the afternoon, Luke.”

“Everybody pay their taxes this year?”

“Almost,” he said. “Just a few, like always.”

Luke settled himself onto the desk, right in the middle of all their work. “Here it is, sort of ironic. You make up this list every six months of all the unpaid property taxes in the county and publish it in my newspaper. So the more that haven’t paid, the bigger the advertisement you have to buy, and the more I get out of it. And here I am, hoping nobody pays their taxes, because that gives me the biggest ad.”

“Then we wouldn’t have any money to buy the ad,” Randy said.

“But you have to. It’s state law. Maybe I’d give you a hardship discount.”

“Well, it’s not likely, anyway, as most people do pay.” Randy sat back into his chair, and Patsy stood up.

“What about the Trinkles?” Luke asked. “They paid up this time?”

“They’re not on the list so far, so I guess we haven’t got to them yet. It’ll be a lot, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, Luke. It’s been years since they paid. Isn’t that what you were asking?”

But Luke didn’t seem to quite catch what Randy meant. “Nothing,” he finally said. “Just wondering.”

“And what I’m wondering is,” Randy said, “are you here for any good reason, or just being nosy?”

“Part of each. I wanted to see if you were about done with that.”

“Monday.”

“That’ll be fine. It helps to have some time, since it takes me a while to set it. And as long as I’m being nosy,” Luke said, “I’m counting a few noses. What’s the latest with all of you on Gold River Highway?”

“Now, Luke! That’s the last thing I want to talk about.”

“It’s not the last you will hear about it. I’m just keeping the public informed.”

“Keeping the public inflamed.”

“When it comes to Gold River Highway, those two are the same. Now, I’m saying Joe Esterhouse and Wade Harris are for it, you’re against it, Eliza Gulotsky always votes no, and Louise is trying to decide.”

“I don’t know,” Randy said.

“But you don’t say I’m wrong on any of those?”

“I don’t say anything.”

“Then I’ll quote an unnamed board member, and everyone will know it’s you.”

“Why don’t you just ask each of us?”

“That’s work, and I already know what they’ll say.”

“Then why are you asking me?”

“So I can quote you.”

“Then talk to Wade Harris, so you can quote him.”

“I am, actually. When he’s in town next Monday. And he gives me better quotes than you. Now I’ve thought of another question.”

“Good gravy, Luke. Why don’t you just make up your answer to it?”

“I can’t for this one. Who owns the land on the mountain where they’d build the road? Over on the other side, it’s all Gold Valley Development land, but what about on the Wardsville side?”

“I don’t know. Do you know?”

“If I did, why would I ask you?”

“So you can misquote my answer,” Randy said. “I’m trying to think. Whoever does is going to make some money selling it to the state.”

“That’s what I was thinking. Who’d have thought that old mountainside would be worth anything?”

“That’s the thing about owning land.”

“I wish I owned some,” Luke said. “Just what family you’re born into, I guess.”

But just then there was a clatter in the hall. Patsy had her things to leave, but she backed into a corner to make room for whoever, or whatever, was coming, and Luke finally stood up from the desk.

Kyle came bouncing in as eager as a puppy.

“Dad?”

“Right here, son.” Sue Ann must have told him that he’d be here in the courthouse.

“Mrs. Clark, Mr. Goddard.” The boy nodded to the other adults, polite as his mother had taught him to be. “Dad!”

“What’s after you?”

“Coach put up the list for varsity football.” The boy dropped onto Patsy’s chair, but he was leaning so far forward he was hardly touching it. “I’m quarterback.”

“Well, sure you are.” Randy felt a big smile spreading across his own face to match Kyle’s. “Starting?”

“Yes, sir. Starting quarterback.”

“Congratulations, Kyle.” Randy took hold of Kyle’s hand and shook it. “What I would have given to say that to my dad. But you deserve it.”

“Practice starts in May. And Coach wants seniors for weight training all summer.”

“You’ve got some hard work ahead of you, Kyle. I am so proud of you.”

And at that point, a handshake just wasn’t the right thing, and he stood up, and Kyle did, too, four inches taller than his daddy, and Randy gave him the biggest hug he could.

There was a bright flash, and they both looked around to see Luke and his camera both smiling at them.

April 30, Sunday

Sweet sunset. Wade finally had a minute’s pause, just in time to appreciate it. He’d take a picture, but how many sunset pictures could one person use?

Corny was coming out from the back office. “I took a call,” she said. “Somebody from last month, wanting a second look.”

“It’s a busy week.”

“He wanted Monday evening, tomorrow. It’s the night of your board meeting, but I think it’ll be early enough that you can fit it in.”

“Uh—okay. Whatever. I’m going in to Wardsville for the afternoon, and I was going to meet Joe before the meeting. I’ll figure it out. I’ll just catch Joe afterwards.”

“And I’m out of here,” she said. “I’m thinking stir-fry.”

“Whatever’s easy. I’ll be about an hour.”

“See you at home.”

Off she drove, into the sunset, and Wade settled into his chair. Paper, paper. No job was finished until the paper work was done.

The front door opened.

It was kind of late on a Sunday for a customer, but anything could happen in April. Wade started out to the main room.

Oh boy. This was going to be a disaster.

“Dr. Colony,” he said. “Welcome to Gold Valley.”

“Thank you.”

Calm words, the first Wade had heard from that mouth. Maybe they were going to be adults for the evening.

“I guess you’re not here to look at houses,” Wade said. “But I’d be glad to talk.” He waited. “I’d be glad to try to find some common ground.”

“I don’t think there is any.” Colony had a big bulging thick manila envelope in his hand. “Not here. I want to make you an offer.”

“Okay. Come on back to my office.”

They abandoned the big room. Wade offered a chair to his guest and then sat himself. Then they were facing each other, and Wade waited.

“You moved here to sell these houses,” Colony said. “You aren’t from here. I don’t think you even like it here.”

“It hasn’t been real welcoming.”

“Why don’t you move back to Raleigh?”

That was a question that could mean a lot of different things. From the way he said it, Wade couldn’t tell which.

“My job is here,” he said.

“There must be other jobs back there.” Colony set the envelope on Wade’s desk. “This place doesn’t mean anything to you. You don’t care what happens except to make money. Well, here’s money.”

Wade stared at the envelope. “What are you saying, Dr. Colony?”

“Look at it.”

Wade picked up the envelope and looked inside. Lots of hundred-dollars bills, bound neatly in bank wrappers.

“It’s fifty thousand,” Colony said. “If you’ll leave, or resign, or anything, but just kill that road, then you can have it.”

“It’s worth that much to you?”

“It’s worth that much.”

“I think I’ll have to say no.”

Everett Colony started to blow his top. But he held back.

“Why? Isn’t it enough?”

“It’s a lot.” Wade had to give him points for generosity. “It’s better than the going rate. But I’d make more than that selling houses if the road gets built.”

“Then how much?”

Wade shook his head. “That’s not it. I’d have to trust you, and you’d have to trust me. Not just now, but for a long time. That’s how these deals work.”

“It’s cash. There’s no record.”

“It might be marked. You might have the serial numbers recorded.

There’ll be a record of you withdrawing it from your bank. See, Dr. Colony, you’re an amateur at this stuff. That’s enough of a reason to turn you down.”

“Then how should I do it?”

“Don’t.” Now he was feeling sorry for the guy. It had taken a lot of guts for him to get this far. “I’d get fired anyway.”

Except that he’d already quit. That was where it got complicated. Why not take the money? He could use it, and Colony was taking the bigger risk.

“Besides,” he said, “that still might not kill the road.”

“I think it would.”

Wade pushed the envelope back. “Thanks anyway. But keep it.”

The envelope was snatched and the chair shoved back and then the front door was slammed. And Wade was alone with his thoughts.