One More Knight

“Makes sense,” said Troy. “Earthquake probably opened up seams leading to some underground river. There’s limestone caves all up through these mountains, in Tennessee…Kentucky. Missouri.” Come on…get outta there. He had to grind his teeth together to keep from saying it out loud. What was the matter with her, anyway? She was acting like she didn’t want him within ten feet of her.

“We used to come up here a lot when I was growing up,” she said, as Bubba gave himself a shake, spangling her long, slim legs with rainbow drops. “Picnics…birthday parties. And later on, when we got driver’s licenses… naturally it was everybody’s favorite party spot.”

“Naturally,” said Troy as inspiration struck. He snapped his fingers and said, “Hey, Bubba, come on outta there now. You heard me, come on.” Bubba raised his head and stared at him for a minute, then ambled on over to see what he had to offer, towing Charly behind him. Which, of course, had been Troy’s intention.

“Of course,” she said as she followed the dog onto dry land, “that was before this was officially a park, so they didn’t have that rule about closing at dusk back then.”

“That right?” Troy took Bubba’s leash from her, noticing as he did so that the skin around her eyes and across the tops of her cheeks had a stretched, transparent look. Something about that slowed him down, and at the same time made his breathing catch and his heartbeat quicken. “Who’d they make it a memorial to, do you know?”

A movement of her head directed his gaze toward something he’d seen before but hadn’t really noticed-a big block of granite sitting near the edge of the pool. Fastened to the face of it was a brass plaque, on which he could clearly see the words In Loving Memory. And now, for the first time, he noticed the name: Colin Patrick Stewart. And the date: March 17, 1978.

It was hard for him to haul his eyes back to Charly’s face. The breath he’d just taken felt like an anvil in his chest. “Colin,” he said softly. “He was your friend, wasn’t he? The one in the band uniform. The one who died.”

She nodded, her face suddenly vulnerable and unshielded as a child’s. “They found his body right there.” Again she used only her head to show him the place. “On the rocks, halfway in the water. He didn’t drown, though. They said it was the fall that killed him.”

“My God,” Troy exploded. He realized that he was trembling with reaction-anger, shock, horror. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why’d you let me bring you here? Jeez, Charly-”

“No, it’s okay-I wanted to come.” There was something peaceful about the way her eyes were resting on the granite block, their color deep and dark as the pool beside it. But they had a certain shininess, too, that reminded him of things so fragile that even a whisper could shatter them-things like bubbles, or the mirrorlike surface of a pond. “I haven’t been here since…it happened,” she whispered. “I guess…I needed to see.”

He drew a deep breath, calming himself, and put out his hand and gently brushed her cheek with the backs of his fingers. It felt moist and cool to the touch. “He was the one, wasn’t he? Your baby’s father. The one who committed suicide.”

“Yeah.” She caught her breath with a sound much like a hiccup. “He was.”

“Jeez, Charly…” But as shaken as he was, there was no hesitation in him; all the frustration and doubts of yesterday were gone. Last night his heart’s compass had shown him the way, and the needle was still holding fast and true this morning. He stroked her cheek once more, and then, with utmost care and tenderness, reached across to her opposite shoulder and turned her toward him, then folded her into his arms.

A sigh went through her, and she softened against him, but there was no trembling, and no sobs. For a time he held her like that, while Bubba, perhaps miraculously, perhaps sensing her need, or maybe just plain tired out, sat at attention beside them, patiently standing watch.

“You want to tell me about it?” Troy asked presently, his heart swelling when she nodded. And so she began, even while he walked her slowly back to their blanket, got Bubba tethered once more to the trash can, found them seats on the nearest picnic table, where they sat side by side with their feet on the bench, holding hands.

“He was my best friend,” she said. “The best friend I ever had.”

Until now. Charly gazed down at her hand, lost in Troy’s bigger one, the words like a song inside her, a song she’d never really listened to until now. But it’s true, she thought. This man is my friend. It seemed like a miracle to her. Dazed by it, she had to wait a moment before she could go on.

“We’d been together, played together, since we were babies. And even when we got older, it seemed like we just had this…connection, you know? We told each other things we never told anyone else. And…well, he was just always there for me. Sometimes it was almost like we were the same person.” She laughed in that tender, careful way you do when tears threaten. “I used to imagine we were really twins, and that our parents had conspired at our birth to separate us. That was, until I got old enough to realize they expected us to many some day. That would have been a little much, even for Southern Gothic, don’t you think?”

“So, your parents were in favor of you guys getting married?” Troy’s eyebrows came together as he thought about that, and Charly knew what he must be wondering.

“Oh, yeah-I think they just assumed we would, since we’d always been so close, and all.”

“So why-?”

“Why didn’t we?” Pain blocked her voice, cramped the small muscles in her face so that it was impossible to say anything for a while. I can’t tell you that. Anything but that. I’m sorry…I’m sorry. I promised.

“I’m not sure I can explain,” she whispered. Still, she had to try. “I…loved Colin. He was the sweetest, dearest person I’ve ever known. Sensitive…kind. He was going to be a doctor, you know. He’d have been a great one, except that it would have been hard on him if he ever lost a patient. He had a heart like mush.” She dashed away tears, and when she lowered her hand it seemed a natural thing to add it to the one already in Troy’s keeping. “I adored him. But it was never anything to do with sex…boyfriends and girlfriends, you know? I used to tell him all about my little crushes and flings, and he’d give me advice. We were friends, that’s all.”

“So how-?” Troy stopped to clear his throat.

“How did we make a baby?” Charly finished for him, her lips making a lopsided smile. She took a breath and looked away, laughing softly. “Well, in a word-I’m not proud of this, you understand-I guess you could say we were…drunk.” At his startled exclamation, her eyes flicked back to him. “Oh, not that it was that simple.”

Restless suddenly, fragile with shame even now, she pulled her hands from his and used them both to comb her hair back from her face. “See, I had a crush on this boy named Richie-”

“The football player.”

“That’s the one. Anyway, it was Fourth of July, and Richie had finally asked me out-we were going to go to the big picnic and fireworks show the town always put on, double-dating with Kelly Grace and her boyfriend, Bobby. Well, when my father found out, he threw a fit-said we were going with the Stewarts, Colin’s family, like we always did, and that was that. With the judge, there were no arguments. So…we cooked it up, Colin and I. We’d go together like they wanted, but in the midst of the festivities we snuck off and I joined up with Richie and Kelly and Bobby. Well, Richie and Bobby had somehow managed to get a hold of a bottle of Black Jack.”

“Uh-oh,” said Troy. “How old did you say you guys were?”

She turned to smile at him ruefully. “Sixteen.”

“So is this one of those things you were talking about that you’re ashamed of?”

“No,”. she retorted, “it’s one of those things I was talking about that you’re supposed to be ashamed of, but aren’t.” But her heart was pounding, and she couldn’t sit still. She slid off the picnic table, and took a step away from him, holding her hair back with both hands. “Listen, it was not an uncommon form of recreation for high-school kids back then. I imagine it’s still not.”

“I imagine you’re right,” he said carefully. And after a pause, “Look you don’t have to talk about this if you don’t-”

“No, I want to.” She threw him a look across one shoulder. He was sitting hunched forward with his hands clasped between his knees, his beautiful eyes focused on her, reaching out, it seemed to her, like a strong and steady hand. The hand of a friend. She turned back to face him, shaking her hair free, letting her breath out slowly. “It’s just…you have to understand, I’ve never told this stuff to anybody before. Give me a minute, okay?”

“Take all the time you need,” he murmured. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

She came back and sat on the splintery bench beside his feet, rocking herself slightly. After a moment she cleared her throat and went on, “So there we were, out in the woods, drinking Black Jack and Coke and watching fireworks and making out like mad. Just when things were starting to get out of hand, I don’t know what happened,