Emory's Gift Read online

  I turned away from the gargoylelike glare. I figured I could wait this one out. I folded my arms and leaned up against a fire extinguisher mounted on the wall. Beth would have to come out eventually and then I would tell her …

  Well, I didn’t have it worked out exactly what I would say.

  An electronic buzzer filled the air, followed by the sound of someone blowing into a microphone. “Charlie Hall, please report to the principal’s office immediately,” the principal boomed at the world.

  Just great.

  I trudged to the principal’s office. Naturally, he wanted to know what had happened to all the media attention he’d been promised. I dutifully gave him Nichole’s message, but he’d put on what I knew to be the best suit in his collection and looked more than a little unhappy with the way he’d been manipulated. I found myself talking about how great it was that he, the principal, would consider granting an interview, though inwardly I seethed with resentment that he had the authority to keep me in his office at his whim. I didn’t have time for this man!

  When I finally escaped I ran as fast as I could down the shiny floor, my rubber soles squeaking. The girl guarding the girls’ room had abandoned her post, which could mean everything or nothing. “Beth?” I called to the door. No response. What if she was in the gym and I was stuck here at the bathrooms? When another seventh-grade girl drifted over I desperately seized her and asked her to go into the sanctum to see if Beth was still there.

  Beth was gone.

  I dashed into the dance area. The boys were still playing basketball at the far end, but the band had stopped and most of the students were leaking out the doors and into the night. I joined them, jumping up to scan the crowd for any sign of her, but I saw nothing. Beth had vanished.

  My dad’s Jeep was parked out in front, waiting for me. The stars had come out and when I looked into the night sky I could see all the way to forever, but nowhere in any of the astrology was written what was going to happen to me next, and I felt tired and unhappy when I opened the passenger door.

  Nichole was sitting there, smiling as usual, and she leaned forward so I could clamber into the back.

  “How was the party?” she asked.

  “Fine,” I said bitterly.

  She twisted in her seat. “What’s the matter?”

  If my dad had asked me, I would have said, Nothing, and that would have been the end of it. Instead, I found myself telling her about Joy Ebert and the horrible mistake I’d made with Beth.

  “Rod Shelburton’s daughter?” my dad wanted to know, sounding a little surprised. How clueless was he? He’d seen me kiss her!

  “You do understand why she’s upset,” Nichole said.

  “Yeah.”

  “When will you see her again? Monday?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, you’ll have to apologize to her. Tell her you’re sorry.”

  I looked out the window. That didn’t sound like much of a plan to me. I felt completely miserable.

  “Charlie.” Nichole leaned the seat back so she could put a hand on my shoulder. Her eyes were gentle. “Trust me on this. If you say you are sorry and you really, really mean it, if you tell her it was a mistake and you don’t know what you were thinking, she will forgive you. Girls like an apology; it’s a way of saying to her that she matters to you.”

  I spent the night on the couch again. I figured Nichole had an exclusive on this story and wasn’t going to let my dad out of her sight. At dawn, I heard car doors slamming and saw that McHenry was back and he had his men with him. They were wearing security guard outfits, complete with big hats like Sheriff Nunnick wore. They stood sipping coffee and talking as the light brightened, but they all froze in place when Emory strolled out of the pole barn and left me a steaming present in the backyard.

  I walked outside and went over to the bear. “It looks like your bullet wound has healed up just fine,” I observed.

  As usual, the bear didn’t react at all.

  “Probably today’s the day for your message, Emory,” I told him. “I know how you did it, now, so we’ll use the same method.” We regarded each other. “And then you’ll need to leave, because tomorrow is Monday and McHenry says the judge will order you to be shot.”

  All my life I’ve wondered why Emory never gave me any indication that he comprehended anything I ever said. I don’t know what he could have done—nodded, maybe, or pawed the ground once for “yes” and twice for “no.” At any rate, I had no idea, gazing into those chocolate eyes, if he understood that he was going to die the next day if he didn’t run away.

  Even though it was barely daybreak, I could hear some people tramping in the woods down below our property, calling to each other. Emory heard them, too, and he returned to the pole barn. I closed the door behind him, putting the tarp back up over the window.

  When I walked out into the yard, McHenry was waiting for me.

  “Just heard it on the CB,” he told me grimly. “More people are coming. Cars and cars of them.”

  chapter

  THIRTY-FIVE

  AT first McHenry’s men tried to prevent the flood of people from getting on our property, but there were only six of them, plus McHenry, and they were quickly outflanked. The guards drew back and formed a protective barrier at the doors of the pole barn, looking ominous and official.

  The weather had gone from hostile to welcoming, and people took advantage of the sunshine to make absolute fools of themselves. I couldn’t keep myself from staring at the situation as it deteriorated. There were people having picnics and prayer meetings; there were protestors from IGAR and from church; there were people smoking marijuana and people drinking beer. All kinds of trash littered the ground. McHenry put a man on our front porch to turn away bathroom seekers so most of the crowd went into the woods to do their business.

  A lively discussion started between two men, rising above the hum of conversation. They were both normal-looking guys, in T-shirts and jeans, one with a thick mustache and one with a bushy beard.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Mustache yelled.

  “No sir, no sir!” shouted Beard.

  “You’d better shut your hole!”

  “Try it!”

  With that, their friends from both sides grabbed them and separated them, though it hadn’t looked to me like they wanted to fight each other—it was more like the way Dan Alderton was at the park, yelling because hearing himself shout made him feel angry.

  Alecci and Wally arrived and stood in the driveway getting footage of the people carrying signs, many of which had biblical quotations and some of which proclaimed they were against animal cruelty. I didn’t see any that were in favor of animal cruelty, though. One of the signs said: “It is Wrong to Keep Animals in Cages.” I argued with that one in my head—it wasn’t a cage; it was a pole barn big enough to park two tractor-trailer rigs inside. Another sign urged people to “Believe the Bear,” and, it being Idaho, there was a sign demanding the government “Lower Our Taxes.” The people with signs tended to want to move around, always careful not to step on the people sitting cross-legged on blankets.

  A man in a blue suit had emerged from the news van and stood around nervously while the crowd put on a loud show for the cameras. I wondered who he was.

  Alecci seemed really angry when the security guard stopped him from walking into our house like he owned the place. He and Wally and the man in the blue suit fidgeted while McHenry came over and poked his head in our door and asked my dad if it was okay for the TV people to come in. Nichole nodded at my dad and then the whole group was inside.

  The man in the blue suit was introduced as Phillip T. Thorpe, there to help the TV audience understand the “unique situation we are all facing.” Mr. Thorpe was a Bear Expert with Experience in These Matters. Nobody questioned how someone could have experience in a unique situation. He actually sort of looked like a bear, with a heavy, squat body and a dark shadow where his razor had lost the battle w
ith his beard that morning. When he spoke, though, his voice was high and whiney.

  “I will be able to quickly ascertain what we have here,” Mr. Thorpe said.

  I could tell by the look in my dad’s eyes that he didn’t care much for Mr. Thorpe. “What we have here is a bear,” my father said laconically.

  McHenry turned to the side so Alecci wouldn’t see his smile. I was just a kid, though, so I felt free to grin away.

  “See, what we got here is the problem of the bear paw,” Alecci lectured. “So what Mr. Thorpe is going to do is figure out how he wrote the words on the wall. That goes out tonight, keeps the story going, along with the footage we shot of the mob scene, there.” He gestured and we all dutifully looked out the front window. Pastors Klausen and Jamie had arrived from church and were speaking to one group of people while the folks from IGAR were listening to someone else, like opposing football teams huddling up before the ball was hiked.

  “Sunday’s a slow news day. Tomorrow, Monday, the court reaches its decision. We’ll be here to catch your reactions to that.” Alecci nodded at my dad and me. “Monday’s the biggest news day.”

  Nichole was staring at Alecci, who faltered. “What?” Alecci demanded.

  “Their reaction? Charlie’s reaction?” she repeated.

  It took him a lot longer to get it than it took me. So Charlie, they just condemned your bear to death; what is your reaction? My dad looked disgusted. Probably if there were a button that ended the world, all Alecci would care about was getting a shot of the person pushing it.

  “Okay, so,” Alecci said uncomfortably, “we need to start with Thorpe getting to the bottom of how the bear drew on the wall.”

  It was, I knew, time to quit withholding information. “I already know how,” I said.

  Well, that sure got everyone’s attention. I explained what I had concluded about the tomato cage.

  “When did you figure this out, Charlie?” my dad wanted to know. I didn’t like that question.

  “Tuesday,” I admitted reluctantly.

  “Tuesday,” my father repeated. I expected a chewing out then, but when I timidly raised my eyes to his he looked contemplative, as if instead of immediately reacting to what I’d done he was trying to figure out why I’d done it; why this son of his, Charlie Hall, kept holding things back, hoarding information, covertly guarding the truth from people and doling it out only when it suited him. I hadn’t ever seen that expression on his face before. It was as if I no longer was merely this boy he needed to carve into a man the way he carved wood at his shop. I was also someone he needed to get to know, to discover.

  “That’s why he hasn’t gone up into the mountains yet. He said he has a message, and I don’t think he can leave until he delivers it,” I concluded.

  Everyone processed this in their own way. My dad looked thoughtful, Nichole admiring, McHenry awestruck. Alecci looked as self-important as he always did. Wally didn’t seem to care; he was just there to drive and do everything else.

  As far as I was concerned, the next order of business was to go out to the pole barn and give Emory a tomato cage paintbrush, but two things got in the way: first there was the fight, sort of a brawl, out in the yard. I couldn’t tell if rival groups were going at it or it was just some rowdies who couldn’t pass up the opportunity to skin their knuckles on each other, but there were at least ten people kicking and punching, a real riot. Some women screamed and a lot of folks looked expectantly at the security guards, but their job was to keep people away from the pole barn and they didn’t budge.

  Fighting makes for good television, so Wally and Alecci ran out to tape the thing. Eventually the combatants quit out of exhaustion, panting and giving manly stares at the camera. A few minutes later we could hear sirens making a very slow climb up Hidden Creek Road, so then Wally and Alecci went to the top of the driveway to film what turned out to be three sheriff’s cars and two tow trucks. One of the sheriff’s deputies got out of his car and began nailing “No Parking” signs to trees on both sides of the road.

  Sheriff Nunnick unslung his bullhorn and aimed it at the crowd. “By order of the sheriff’s department, there is no parking on Hidden Creek Road until midnight Tuesday. Same goes for two miles of Highway 206 on either side of the turnoff for Hidden Creek Road. Move your vehicle or it will be towed.”

  People grudgingly began heading up to their cars. A couple of them had pulled too far off the road and were stuck in the drainage ditch, so it was a good thing the tow trucks were there.

  Alecci motioned for Nichole to come out and talk to the camera. She sighed, glancing at my father, and then joined the news team. Mr. Thorpe followed her out, as it seemed he suddenly realized that if he didn’t he’d be surrounded by unfriendly faces.

  Sheriff Nunnick came down the driveway, nodding and smiling at his constituents and the out-of-towners as if he had just done them a big favor. He gave McHenry’s man a cool glance and walked right past him with an I outrank you air and knocked on our door, opening it and sticking his head in. “Mind if I come in?”

  My dad offered the sheriff some coffee. They went over and sat at the kitchen table. McHenry excused himself and went out to talk to his men.

  “Quite a spectacle out there,” the sheriff observed, blowing on his coffee.

  “They don’t leave,” my dad replied. We all glanced outside, where some people still stood around in our yard. Most of the crowd, though, had gone to move their cars.

  “I imagine when they park a couple of miles down 206 and make the hike up here, it’ll dampen their enthusiasm a little. That’s quite a climb up Hidden Creek Road,” the sheriff said. “Soon as we get the cars out of here I’m going to send the deputies into the woods and start ticketing people for camping without a permit, and I’ve set up a roadblock down there so that only your neighbors can come up.”

  My dad nodded.

  “I imagine you’re wondering why the change of heart.”

  “You did pretty much imply I was on my own,” my dad replied.

  The sheriff leaned back in his chair. “The folks here are only about half the story. We got people coming into town from all over. The hotels are full. Some families are even renting out their guest rooms for top dollar, and you got to wait two hours to get a seat in a restaurant. It’s a bit of a strain on my department to keep everyone in line, but nobody’s complaining. You get my drift, here? This show has put some money in people’s pockets.”

  Even then, I understood that when money was in people’s pockets it was good for whoever was an incumbent, come election time.

  “So you decided to come out and thin the crowd before it turned into a riot,” my father speculated.

  “Well, that and…” The sheriff glanced at me. There was a long pause.

  “And you don’t want a lot of witnesses when you execute the judge’s order tomorrow,” my father finished for him.

  The sheriff rubbed his face and then nodded.

  “But if the bear were to leave, head off into the mountains, say, this afternoon…,” my father said speculatively.

  The sheriff shook his head. “Oh, we’re not going to try to follow it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  My dad met my eyes and nodded, and I understood. We needed to give Emory the means to deliver his message right now, while the mob was nearly gone.

  The sheriff shook hands with Pastor Klausen and Pastor Jamie on the way out. In a decision that was probably the exact opposite of separation of church and state, Sheriff Nunnick allowed the two of them to keep their car parked on Hidden Creek Road. Jamie was earnestly addressing a small knot of nodding people, folks who probably had caught a ride to our place with someone else and didn’t need to move cars.

  My dad went out and explained the plan to McHenry, and the news team came over and heard enough to figure out what was going on. I noticed Nichole touched my dad’s arm when she came up to stand next to him.

  “So wait, you’re going to put a special cage on his arm w
ith a paintbrush and see if the bear writes some more words?” Alecci asked. It was close enough, so my dad nodded.

  “Right now?”

  “Seems like the best time to do it,” my dad replied, looking out at the near-empty lawn.

  “No,” Alecci objected, “that’s not what we want. This is not the best time. Tomorrow would be better. Monday morning, that’s our biggest audience.”

  McHenry looked him over. “I’m sorry you got the impression we care what you think.”

  “Well…” Alecci glanced around for allies and found none, though Mr. Thorpe didn’t seem hostile, so it gave him an inspiration. “Okay, so, we shoot the bear doing his writing and we have Phillip provide his expert opinion on the whole shebang.”

  Wally snorted. “I’m not going in there; there’s a bear in there, Tony.”

  “Well, I know there’s a bear in there, Wally; that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Alecci snapped.

  “He sees my camera, he’s going to think it’s a gun, man,” Wally said.

  “If you’re going to shoot any video, we should leave the tarp over the window,” McHenry observed. “Less threatening to the bear if we’re not all out there peering in at him through the glass.”

  “I’m not going to go in there, either,” Nichole said. “Are you, Tony?”

  There was a long pause. “Well, no, I’m the producer,” he said.

  “I think it should be just Charlie and Emory,” my dad said.

  “George,” Nichole said cautiously. I picked up on what she didn’t ask: You sure you want your son in there alone with a bear? Like everyone, she wasn’t sure what she believed.

  “It will be okay, Nichole,” my dad said. Seemed like he understood her pretty well, too.

  “So just the boy and the bear,” Wally said.

  “Well, and Thorpe,” Alecci said.

  “What?” Mr. Thorpe squeaked.

  Alecci glared. “You knew that was the deal, Phillip. You’re here to examine the bear.”