The Last Exit to Normal Page 20

  I forced a laugh. “I know. That jealous bone. Never happen again.” I paused. “We’re still on for the potluck, right?”

  “Four o’clock.”

  “Good. Well, I’ve got to finish up this fence. Happy cooking with Ma.”

  She laughed. “Bye.”

  I hung up, my heart pounding in my chest. It was Kim. Ron had some kind of fixation on her, and I was next in line.

  I spent the day staining the fence, putting two coats on after Miss Mae came out and barked, “Put two coats on it. Both sides, you hear?” It was three-thirty by the time I finished, and as I walked to the shed to put the stain away, Dad and Edward pulled into the driveway. Edward called hello and walked inside, but Dad came my way. He looked at the fence. “It looks good.”

  “Thanks.” I set the can on a shelf.

  Dad shifted on his feet. “So, how are you?”

  I looked at him. “I’m fine.”

  “The sheriff stopped by the restaurant today.”

  “Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

  “He told me what he thinks is going on.”

  I shrugged.

  “I shouldn’t have doubted your word.”

  I frowned, shaking my head. “I probably would have thought the same thing.”

  He looked around, uncomfortable. “He told me you got a job out at Morgan Johan’s place.”

  “Yeah. I start tomorrow.” I hitched a thumb to the fence. “I wanted to get this done first.”

  Dad cleared his throat, exhaling. “Wow.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know, Ben. I just didn’t think it would happen this way.”

  “Didn’t think what would happen this way?”

  “Everything, I suppose.”

  I smiled. “You kicked me out.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “Maybe it was the best thing.”

  “You’ll be staying at Morgan’s?”

  “Yeah.”

  He nodded. “What about school?”

  “I can do homeschooling stuff. The sheriff told me about it.”

  “You’re going to?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good.”

  “Yeah, I think so, too. Good.”

  “You know, if things don’t work out at Morgan’s, you can come back.”

  “Thanks.”

  He nodded. “Well, anyway, Edward and I were wondering if you’d like to come by for dinner tomorrow night. Maybe invite Kim if that would be better.”

  I thought about it. “I’d like that.”

  He walked up the porch steps. “Hey, Ben?”

  “Yeah?”

  His eyes met mine. “I’m proud of you.” Then he opened the door and went inside.

  I stared at the old cans of paint and stain on the shelves, and for some reason, tears filled my eyes. I wiped my face on my sleeve. We’d just had a conversation that was different from any other we’d ever had. Not good and not bad, but . . . different. And, I thought as I focused on the newer can I’d just put away, maybe different forever.

  CHAPTER 27

  By the time I got out of the shower, it was ten after four and I was late. Miss Mae, Dad, and Edward were already gone, having lugged four trays of her famous Miss Mae’s Montana Corn Bread to the car, and the house was silent as I got dressed. My mood lightened after talking with Dad, and I knew things were getting better. I would be a guest at their house for dinner, and that was weird, but I kind of liked it. Maybe we could start anew. I hoped we could.

  On my own. I smiled at that idea. I’d never even given a thought to Ben being a grown-up big boy before, and now I liked the idea. I’d had friends that had moved out before they graduated school, and I would be eighteen in four months, so it wasn’t like I was on the streets. Besides, Rough Butte only had one street, I thought with a chuckle. I had a job, a truck, a place to stay, and I’d get my diploma. Not bad.

  As I hit the front door and stepped onto the porch, I heard the crash of breaking glass and looked over at the Hinkses’ house, an instant pang of guilt shooting through me. In all my planning, I’d almost forgotten Billy, and I felt like a jerk for it.

  Billy stood in the driveway, looking at the shattered remnants of a casserole dish, its creamy tuna-and-pasta contents an oozing pile on the cement. He stared at it, then bent, trying in vain to scoop it up. I groaned.

  Mr. Hinks came to the door at the sound of the crash and, seeing Billy kneeling on the driveway with tuna casserole all over his hands, came out and walked down the porch steps. He strode across the driveway with his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists. “Dammit, Billy! Lookit what you’ve gone and done now.” He growled as he reached Billy, then swung his fist, knocking him on the side of the head and sending him sprawling on the driveway. Mr. Hinks stared at the mess. “Told you once, I told you a million times—you gotta be careful when I tell you to be careful! Dammit!” Then he turned on Billy. “I told you to be careful, didn’t I?”

  Billy rubbed his head, staring up at his father.

  “Didn’t I? Answer me, boy!”

  “Yessir.”

  Mr. Hinks shook his head, disgusted, then mumbled under his breath as he stared at the broken glass. “Worthless piece of shit can’t even take a damn dish to the car.” Then he turned and barked, “Get on inside!”

  Billy stood up, shifting back and forth on his feet. “What about the potluck? We can still go. I’ll clean it up. I promise.”

  “You ain’t going nowhere. Now get yourself in that house before I strap you right where you stand!”

  Billy was off, running up the steps and into the house. Then Mr. Hinks noticed me standing there. “What the hell are you looking at?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then get the hell out of here before I whip your ass, boy. I ain’t kidding, either. Get!”

  I walked back inside, my heart hammering in my chest. Rage had lit his eyes. I stood in the living room for a moment, not knowing what to do, then peeked out from the shades. Mr. Hinks had picked up the broken shards and was hosing off the driveway, talking and cussing to himself about his worthless son. Then he went inside.

  I waited a moment longer, and then heard his screen door slam shut. I peeked again and watched as Mr. Hinks got in his car and drove away, leaving Billy inside. I was already late and knew Kim would be looking for me, so I grabbed my keys and grumbled about what a bastard he was. Billy had been looking forward to the potluck all summer. His mother would have him soon enough, though. That was for sure.

  When I got to the park, red, white, and blue streamers fluttered from the lampposts and through the trees, and the whole town gathered and milled around, visiting and eating and drinking beers. At least twenty picnic tables, lined up in a row, held enough food to feed an army, and ice-filled aluminum tubs placed sporadically along the feeding line held bottles and cans of beer. I found Kim watching two kids get their faces painted.

  I scanned the crowd for Mr. Hinks as I walked up to Kim. “Hey.” I pecked her on the cheek.

  “You’re late. I was beginning to think you dumped me and moved back to Spokane.”

  “Nope. I got caught up.”

  Kim smiled. “Forgiven.”

  I nodded, taking her hand. “Hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  As we walked through the park, I told her what happened to Billy.

  “Well, his mom is going to get him soon,” she said.

  “I know. It just sucks.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “He’s in the Can. I know it.” I grabbed two plates and we meandered down the food line, picking up this and that and filling our plates. I was sure to load up on Mrs. Johan’s teriyaki meatballs, and made sure Kim noticed. I popped one in my mouth. “Mmm. Good.”

  She laughed. “Brown-noser.”

  “That’s me. Come on.” As I led Kim to a tree and we sat under it, the mayor got up onstage and began announcing the schedule of events for t
he afternoon and evening. The grand finale would be Two Tone Slim and the Taildraggers performing some toe-tapping, knee-slapping, hot-off-the-presses country for everybody. Then he said that he had an announcement to make. He cleared his throat into the microphone. “Now, we all know Morgan Johan up and decided to get himself trapped under a tractor. . . .” Laughter from the crowd. He went on: “. . . and busted himself all up. That’s in part why we’re here today. As I said, we’ll be starting the auction in a few minutes, but first I’d like to have two people come on up on this stage.” He paused. “Will Kimberly Johan and Ben Campbell please come on up.”

  Kim and I gawked at each other. I had three meatballs stuffed in my cheek. “Whuff doesh he whant?”

  Kim frowned, then smiled. “I don’t know. Come on, though.” She took my hand, and we wound our way through the crowd. Once we reached the stage, the mayor had us stand next to him. He spoke into the microphone: “Ladies and gentlemen, these two young adults at my side stand for something we all cherish in Rough Butte. They stand for a willingness to help those in need and the backbone to stand up and make themselves be counted when emergencies arise. They stand for courage and heroism and duty to their neighbors, but most of all, they stand for doing what’s right when there’s something to be done.” With that, Sheriff Wilkins walked onstage with two certificates, handing them to us. I caught sight of Dad, Edward, and Miss Mae. Edward was dabbing his eye, and Miss Mae beamed with pride before she smacked Edward on the shoulder, no doubt telling him to dry up.

  I smiled, blushing, and looked over the crowd. That’s when I saw Ron Jamison standing at the edge of the park, staring at me. He smiled, then walked in the direction of our house. I stopped breathing, the hair on the back of my neck prickling ominously. The mayor went on: “In honor of Kimberly Johan and Benjamin Campbell going beyond the call of duty in saving Morgan Johan’s life, these certificates of community service and bravery are bestowed upon them as a mark of heroism. We thank you from the bottom of our hearts, and . . .”—he smiled—“I’m sure Morgan looks kindly upon it, too.”

  The crowd erupted with applause, and Edward was openly weeping like the proudest mother in the world. My dad’s eyes gleamed. I watched as Ron disappeared around the corner. Then the mayor handed the microphone to Kim, smiling. “A few words?” he said.

  Kim took the microphone, staring at the crowd. She hesitated, took my hand, squeezed it, and spoke: “Well, I guess I’m just glad Uncle Morgan is all right, but I didn’t do much. It was mostly Ben. He stayed while I got help.” Then she handed the microphone to me as the crowd clapped.

  I took it, ready to pee my pants. I cleared my throat. It was no use. The Ultimate Ben Campbell would come out and screw things up. I’d say something stupid. That much I knew. “Um . . . thanks. I don’t really . . . uh . . . yeah, those teriyaki meatballs sure are good, huh?”

  The crowd erupted in laughter and applause, and I saw Mrs. Johan blushing. I handed the microphone back to the mayor, and we left the stage. Dad came up to me, with Edward in tow. Edward had gained control of himself and beamed. Dad held his hand out. “Congratulations, son.”

  I shook it, and several men I didn’t know patted me on the back as they passed. “Thanks,” I said.

  Dad smiled. “You’ve done well, Ben.”

  I nodded, smiling back. “I guess I learned it from you, huh?”

  Dad’s face almost crumpled, and Edward was all over the place with the tears again. Dad hugged me then and, lowering his voice, spoke into my ear: “I love you.”

  I hugged him back. “Love you, too.”

  Kim and I glad-handed for the next few minutes, but I was anxious. Finally, when we’d made our way through the crowd, and when the auctioneer, who happened to be Mr. Hinks, kicked off the action with spitfire bidding going on over a saddle donated by Gunderson’s Hardware, I tucked the certificate in my back pocket. I looked at Kim, thinking about Billy. “I’ve got to take a leak. I’ll be back,” I said.

  She shook her head, smiling. “Too much information. I’ll be at the tree.”

  I kissed her, then looked into her eyes. “You know, I could end up loving somebody like you. Since we’re both heroes and all.”

  She laughed. “Slow down, hero. Go pee, and then we’ll talk about love.”

  I left then, but I didn’t go to the bathroom.

  CHAPTER 28

  I ran. My breath came in ragged heaves and my chest felt like it would explode, and when I finally got to Mr. Hinks’s house, I stopped. No sign of Ron. I walked across the lawn, looking, but he was nowhere to be found. My heart slowed. Maybe I’d been wrong. I walked up the Hinkses’ drive, then across our side yard to the back.

  “I knew you’d come.”

  I turned, and just before everything went black, I saw Ron Jamison and the two-by-four flashing toward my head.

  I woke up coughing. I felt like forty midgets with jackhammers were playing tag in my head. I coughed again. Smoke. I jerked up and felt the heat on my face, my eyes going to the Hinkses’ house.

  Flames licked the eaves, and I heard the sirens already. I didn’t know how long I’d been out, but the house was almost fully engulfed. I stood up, the pain making me dizzy, and looked around. Billy. I searched the grounds. No Billy.

  Then I knew. The Can.

  I ran.

  The front door was on fire, and as I scrambled to the back, flames licked the siding of the house. The sirens grew louder. Smoke billowed in the sky. Two empty gas cans lay scattered on the driveway, and as I reached the door, I saw Ron Jamison standing in the field behind the house, smiling at me. Then he was gone.

  I tried the back door, but it was locked. In a panic and with the heat searing me, I kicked three times before the door gave way. Then I was inside, screaming for Billy. No answer.

  Flames had spread up the walls and across the ceiling. As I screamed for Billy, the heat sucked into my lungs stopped me from breathing. I choked, running through the kitchen with my shirt over my mouth. Smoke clouded the rooms and I knew I was almost out of time. He’d die. I’d die. Time stopped. I kept running. I opened doors to flames and smoke and heat, and finally, in the hall, I found it.

  The Can. I opened the door, and through the smoke I saw Billy huddled in the corner. His eyes were closed. I yanked him up and carried him, my shirt falling from my mouth. I couldn’t breathe. My eyes burned and my ears were filled with the dull roar of flames. I ran to the closest room as the hair on my arms curled up and the heat seared me. My entire body ached. Then I found a window. Without a thought, I dropped Billy, braced my hands on the sill, and kicked the glass out, cutting my arms as I frantically cleared the wicked shards.

  Arms slick with my blood, I picked up Billy’s limp body, the acrid smoke almost smothering me as it poured from the window, and shoved him through. His foot caught on the sill but he tumbled to the grass, then I dove out myself, landing in a heap on top of him.

  Cool air. Light. I sucked in a breath, then dragged Billy away, yanking him out of reach of the flames. My head spun. I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. The sirens screeched. The last thing I saw was three men in yellow jackets running toward us.

  When I came to, a man’s voice was explaining something about smoke inhalation. I heard Dad’s voice, and opened my eyes. He and a firefighter stood over me. The Hinkses’ house was still burning. I looked over and saw Billy sitting up, his face covered with soot, his father standing yards away, staring at the inferno. My own father’s face—his expression, the look in his eyes as he studied me—needed no words, and I realized right then that no matter what happened between us, one thing would never change. He loved his son. And I loved him.

  EPILOGUE

  Ron Jamison was charged with arson. Montana is a wild place, but the judge didn’t take it too kindly that a little boy was almost killed. He sentenced Ron to juvenile detention, with a transfer of four years in prison when he turned eighteen. He also mandated heavy psychiatric treatment. Ron is appealing the verdi
ct, but I don’t care. He’s gone, and that’s all that matters.

  Sheriff Wilkins served Mr. Hinks with custody papers one week after his house burned down. The custody hearing was set for a month later, and by the time I gave a deposition on what kind of treatment I’d seen Mr. Hinks give Billy, my eyebrows and arm hair had grown back. Mr. Hinks lost custody of Billy, and with no home and under threat of arrest by the Montana Highway Patrol and the FBI for promising to get revenge on Mrs. Lindy, he left Rough Butte. No one knows where he lives now.

  Mr. Hinks never thanked me for saving his son’s life. Billy did, though, and he writes me from Las Vegas every once in a while. They have three cats. Mrs. Lindy calls Miss Mae, too, asking after us. Billy’s little brother was born without a hitch, and they named him Christopher and say he’s got Billy’s eyes.

  Billy got a new skateboard for his twelfth birthday, and he tells me he’s getting pretty good with it. He’s in school, happy, and decided to join the baseball team. Mrs. Lindy sent us a picture of him in his uniform, and I barely recognized him with his hair grown out and a few pounds put on his scarecrow frame. I miss him.

  Dad and Edward had the grand opening of Benjamin’s, and it got rave reviews from the local paper. Great steaks, friendly service, decent prices, and they’re busy. The town seems just fine with them, and I’m glad that I was so incredibly wrong about this place. The people of Rough Butte are good.

  Me? Well, this place, this last exit to normal, taught me that nothing is ever really normal. It’s what you make it. I got my damn license, I’m working at the Johan place, and Dirk left for Wyoming a while back. I bust ass every day, then study at night. I’m saving to buy a new truck. Morgan Johan is a good man, and he told me I have a job as long as the place is here.

  Dirk forgave me for giving him the shits. Skeet sired a litter of puppies, and Dirk gave me one before he left. I named him Moe. I eat supper at Miss Mae’s a couple times a week with Dad and Edward, and sometimes Kim, too. Miss Mae is eternal, I think. She’ll never die. She did retire the wooden spoon, and she even let me hug her once.