the same ridge, and a bit higher. A dozen houses or so, a church, a brick WPA school and a store with two gas pumps and a repair garage at an intersection of two state roads. The forest drew back for about a mile around into pastures, and the land looked like an upside-down bowl, and bony, especially when the skies were gray. It was a place of moods, she knew, and not for everybody. Charlie would tell her later it seemed to him at times like the very end of the earth, a place hanging on after all life elsewhere had been washed away. Other times, he said he could feel all the pulsating world below their mountain rise and electrify the very solitude. Well, she knew that feeling, too.
But that cabin! It was down a little grass-covered track you could drive a car on, and suddenly you were out of the woods into a meadow. There it wasâstone chimney, big fireplace, porch looking way south down into the flatlands, where the heat blurred everything in a fine, sun-drenched haze. If you imagined, you could almost smell that sweltering world downbelow, and were glad you werenât there. He told her he thought it was the prettiest place heâd ever seen, that when he first saw it, he felt like a rich man for the first time in his life. She thought it was the prettiest place, tooâcertainly they were happiest there, if happiness is a rightful expectation out of life. They had never stopped loving each other, and finally that was all that mattered to her. The cabin was torn down a few years after they left so someone with money could build a proper house.
She first saw him outside the Blackstone County Courthouse one lunch hour. He was standing down by the sidewalk like he was waiting, his Stetson tipped, Reggie Tetrault, the bailiff, beside him, leering as always. She knew she had nothing to be ashamed ofâReggie could leer all he wanted. But she guessed her look caught Charlie because he started to blush. She stoppedâshe couldnât help herselfâand looked at him, disbelieving. Could any man be such a damn fool? Big gun on his hip, baseball mitts for hands and nothing but putty? That blush showed it all. She showed him her back then. She didnât dare reveal the fear that came over her in that moment that she hardly understood herself.
She didnât know then that he was the one who had served the capias on her ex-husband, Lonnie. It got kind of ugly, she heard. Lonnie could be that way, she remembered from when he had beat her for the last time and sheâd taken off for good. That was before she ever saw Charlie or he knew anything about her. Her married name was Parcel. She took back Conley when she left Lonnie and went home. Sheâd like to say Lonnie Parcel was a sweet man except when the liquor got to him. Thatâs what women always wanted to say about their men, it seemed. But liquor revealed a man, and she knew Lonnie never was sweet; he was a sonuvabitch. He was always looking at her sidelong, finding something new to fault her by, when he wasnât eyeing other women, telling them what heâd told her about his playing backup to this and that star over in Nashville, and even backup at the Opry. Only with him, it was true. He was that good on the banjo. He liked the drugs and life that went with it, too. She used to love to hear him play. If he were only that way all the timeâhis banjo, his voiceâshe could understand her love for him. But if sheâd let him, he would have made a career out of scaring her. Heâd buy her tight dresses and parade her like his whore. Sometimes that wasnât a bad feeling, she found. It was kind ofsatisfying, like it touched something deep. And the way people looked at her would scare him in turn. She was young then, and wild.
Had she told them, most people wouldnât have believed that Charlie Dugan was a shy man. He made her smile. He was so formal sometimes she wanted to laugh but didnât dareâshe didnât want
But that cabin! It was down a little grass-covered track you could drive a car on, and suddenly you were out of the woods into a meadow. There it wasâstone chimney, big fireplace, porch looking way south down into the flatlands, where the heat blurred everything in a fine, sun-drenched haze. If you imagined, you could almost smell that sweltering world downbelow, and were glad you werenât there. He told her he thought it was the prettiest place heâd ever seen, that when he first saw it, he felt like a rich man for the first time in his life. She thought it was the prettiest place, tooâcertainly they were happiest there, if happiness is a rightful expectation out of life. They had never stopped loving each other, and finally that was all that mattered to her. The cabin was torn down a few years after they left so someone with money could build a proper house.
She first saw him outside the Blackstone County Courthouse one lunch hour. He was standing down by the sidewalk like he was waiting, his Stetson tipped, Reggie Tetrault, the bailiff, beside him, leering as always. She knew she had nothing to be ashamed ofâReggie could leer all he wanted. But she guessed her look caught Charlie because he started to blush. She stoppedâshe couldnât help herselfâand looked at him, disbelieving. Could any man be such a damn fool? Big gun on his hip, baseball mitts for hands and nothing but putty? That blush showed it all. She showed him her back then. She didnât dare reveal the fear that came over her in that moment that she hardly understood herself.
She didnât know then that he was the one who had served the capias on her ex-husband, Lonnie. It got kind of ugly, she heard. Lonnie could be that way, she remembered from when he had beat her for the last time and sheâd taken off for good. That was before she ever saw Charlie or he knew anything about her. Her married name was Parcel. She took back Conley when she left Lonnie and went home. Sheâd like to say Lonnie Parcel was a sweet man except when the liquor got to him. Thatâs what women always wanted to say about their men, it seemed. But liquor revealed a man, and she knew Lonnie never was sweet; he was a sonuvabitch. He was always looking at her sidelong, finding something new to fault her by, when he wasnât eyeing other women, telling them what heâd told her about his playing backup to this and that star over in Nashville, and even backup at the Opry. Only with him, it was true. He was that good on the banjo. He liked the drugs and life that went with it, too. She used to love to hear him play. If he were only that way all the timeâhis banjo, his voiceâshe could understand her love for him. But if sheâd let him, he would have made a career out of scaring her. Heâd buy her tight dresses and parade her like his whore. Sometimes that wasnât a bad feeling, she found. It was kind ofsatisfying, like it touched something deep. And the way people looked at her would scare him in turn. She was young then, and wild.
Had she told them, most people wouldnât have believed that Charlie Dugan was a shy man. He made her smile. He was so formal sometimes she wanted to laugh but didnât dareâshe didnât want
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