Nine Lives To Die

December 20, the snow continued but was light. However, the blustery wind demanded alert driving, especially on the back roads. As the plows first cleared the interstates, then the big state highways like Route 29, the back roads often piled up with snow. No one in their right mind would be out in anything but four-wheel drive.

At seven-thirty in the morning, cars lined up at all the churches, often a police squad SUV among them to pick up the cartons, the food, the toys.

At the door to the St. Luke’s meeting room, Susan Tucker checked off people and cartons as they carried out boxes for delivery. Each table also had a St. Luke’s person checking who took what box. If anything, Susan had overorganized, but she was determined not to overlook anyone in need. Even with all the early deliveries, everyone there knew this would go on until sundown. They hoped not much beyond, but you never knew.

Susan had called her counterparts at the other churches. Managing her husband’s campaign for the House of Delegates burnished her already formidable skills. Difficult as that was, this day was also a lot to handle, compressed by time.

Strong and willing, Harry helped carry out boxes for some of the other ladies. Fair did the same, along with Brian Hexham, who’d closed his office to help.

The clergy present—priest, pastors, reverends, rabbi—all were astonished at the labor and how many parishioners had closed offices or taken the day off, doing whatever they could to help the poor. Everyone understood that these were hard times, and everyone also understood that one day a year can’t begin to address the problem. So they worked with full hearts and frustrated minds.

“Harry,” Susan addressed her dearest friend as she came back into the meeting room for another load, “go out in the hall and bring in the extra dog and cat food and all the animal treats.”

“Did we already load up all that we have in here?” Harry’s eyebrows rose.

“We did.” Susan showed her the clipboard and then Harry looked at the back table.

“Okay. Everyone has to have a Christmas present.”

By nine, everything was on its way—except for the last loads that Harry and Susan were taking. Fair had already left with an entire truckload of horse cookies, for the horses at the rehab centers and retirement places, many awaiting homes. There was little hope in the winter. He also carried some boxes for Almost Home Animal Shelter in Nelson County, as well as the sparkling, large Albemarle County SPCA.

Next to Susan, Harry rode shotgun in the Audi, list in her lap. “First stop, behind Miller School, and then we can work our way up Dick Woods Road, all those little side roads. And then—”

“Harry, I drew up the list.”

“Right.” Harry realized Susan had been putting out brush fires for weeks, each day more intense than the one before, and she was one minute away from cranky.

“I brought those nutrition bars you like. Want a chocolate one?”

“I would kill for chocolate.” Susan held out her hand.

Harry reached into the small cooler at her feet, retrieved a bar, unwrapped it halfway, handed it to Susan. Then she launched into everything that had happened last night.

“I was going to call you last night, but I know how busy you are and it was getting late. You know I tell you everything.” Harry finished the story.

“Most times.” Susan smiled. “God knows it’s bizarre. When the sheriff finally gets up there, call me, I’ll come up, since it’s on my land.”

Susan’s late uncle, a man who retired to a monastery, had willed her the huge acreage on the side of the mountain that abutted Harry’s acreage. The difference was that Susan’s side contained the large stand of black walnut, along with other hardwoods. One black walnut could fetch thousands of dollars. The market slid up and down, but one lone tree could add considerably to the comfort of one’s bank account. Harry managed the timber, a job she loved. Anything involving timber, farming, or animal husbandry, and Harry reveled in her element.

“Seeing a human skeleton suspended, tree roots growing through it, it’s awful, but at the same time I think, well, the body was put to good use,” Harry said matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean?”

“What good does it do to put people in a box where decomposition doesn’t enrich the soil, or if you put them out, wild animals could eat them? It really is wasteful.”

Tension evaporating, Susan laughed. “Harry, only you.”

Harry laughed, too. “Well—”

They chattered on about everything, the deaths of the two men, the skeleton, the fingers in the pencil cup, the bills currently on the floor of the House of Delegates, who was an idiot in Richmond and who was not.

After delivering a box, Susan hopped in the Audi, Harry closing the back door, and they rode toward the last of their drops. Susan returned to a never-ending fund of gossip, much of it about sex. “Ned says most of those guys in Richmond are cheating like mad and lying through their teeth. The more righteous they present themselves, the bigger the whoremaster—his words.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I think if you’re a young woman and you want to rise in the world, go to work in a politician or lobbyist’s office. You’ll sleep your way to the top faster than in Hollywood.”

“How stupid was I to go to work at the post office when I graduated from Smith?” Harry smacked her open hand on her forehead.

“Well, Sugar, there’s still time.”

Off and running, they blabbed about infidelity, Internet porn, non-porn people posting pictures of their genitals on same.

“You know, that’s not a good idea.” Harry wiped tears from her eyes, as she was laughing so hard. So much had gone wrong just lately, the laughter lifted their spirits.

“Last stop?” Harry turned around to double-check the back of the plush wagon.

“It is.”

The young couple, trimming a tree they had cut themselves, welcomed the two inside. Harry picked up a baby crawling on the floor. While the two may not have had much in life, they were happy with each other, happy with the baby.

When leaving, Susan and Harry kissed the baby and hugged the parents.

Back in the wagon, Susan sighed. “I loved it when the kids were little.”

“Babies are usually ugly—I mean, they are, but your two weren’t.”

“All babies are beautiful.” Susan slowed as they were descending an old tertiary road.

“Hey, you aren’t on the campaign trail with Ned,” Harry teased her.

A pause, then Susan admitted, “Have you ever noticed that some babies look like old men or old women? You won’t know what they will look like at fourteen, but you have a good guess at what they will look like at seventy, unless they’ve had plastic surgery.”

“Same with foals. There’s a brief period of time when you know what they’ll look like in their prime. Then it disappears. Horses go through the same awkward phases humans do. Look how their backs sway when they get really old.”

“Right. Hey, we’re above St. Cyril’s. Let me stop by for a moment. Here.” She handed Harry her cellphone. “See if I have messages?”

“Wouldn’t it make that noise? The message beep?”

“Yeah, but these last few days the phone hasn’t been right. I keep losing power, then charge it up in the car.”

“Couldn’t call Coop last night on the cell. Most times they work, except for the hollows. Mountains are gorgeous, but they are the devil with electronic stuff.”

Susan drove onto the plowed St. Cyril’s lot, with cars parked and a few coming in and out. The sun had set.

The two women walked into the church.

Charlene Vavilov, her sons, and their teammates from football and baseball carried out the last of the boxes.

Susan called out, “Need a hand?”

Charlene fought to close the door as a gust hit it. “This is it.”

“We’re finished, too,” said Susan. “I’ll call everyone once I get back to St. Luke’s to see how it’s going, but I don’t have any messages on the phone, so it must be okay. By the way, thank you for helping, given all that’s happened lately.”

“Arden was undone.”

“Poor thing.” Susan uttered the southern formula, but she did mean it.

“Susan, you did a great job with this Christmas drive, and I must say, the sheriff’s department has been terrific,” Charlene said, sounding tired.

“They have. Every year this grows.”

“That’s both a good sign and a bad sign,” Charlene noted.

A loud voice was heard down the hall, coming closer. Harry and Susan looked at each other and then at Charlene.

Ahead of Esther, Flo Rice blasted into the room. Esther followed, out of breath.

“Where are the fingers?” squawked Flo. “I want to see the fingers. Were they bones, or did they have flesh on them?”

“Flo, that’s enough.” Esther, fit to be tied, came alongside her sister. “The fingers are gone.”

“You lie! There are two fingers here. The paper said so.” Flo’s lower lip jutted out in defiance.

In a soothing voice, Charlene said, “Flo, you’re right. There were fingers here, but the sheriff took them away.”

Flo thought this over, since she was more inclined to believe Charlene.

Esther handed Charlene an envelope. In a low voice, she said, “It’s a small contribution. I’m sorry we couldn’t help with deliveries.”

Coats off, sleeves pushed up, Harry and Susan were ready to clean up and then go do the same at St. Luke’s.

Charlene noticed. “Girls, don’t bother. The boys will be back and, trust me, they can work harder and faster than we can.”

This made everyone smile except Flo, who appeared fixated on Harry. “Where’d you get that?” She grabbed Harry’s wrist, upon which was her found bracelet.

“Uh.” Harry tried to gently remove Flo’s hand, to no avail.

“Give it to me!”

“Flo, what’s the matter with you? You can’t take someone’s jewelry.” Esther pried her sister’s hand from Harry’s arm. “That’s an old piece. Lovely.”

“I want it. It belongs to me!” Flo screeched.

“Flo, you never had a bracelet like that.” Esther was firm. “Now stop this this instant.”

Esther forcibly propelled Flo from the room as the three women looked on.

“Give it to me! Give it to me!” Flo bellowed.

Even though the door had closed behind them, they could hear her as Esther shoved her down the hall. The three remained silent, then Charlene said, “What a pity. What a great pity!”