Stargazey Nights Page 7

  Ned’s lacked all the physical comforts of his father and stepmother’s house, the air-­conditioning, the television, the mall. It also lacked the coldness. Stargazey Point had bugs and heat and hard work. But it was a magic place. A place where Cab knew he belonged. Where he was wanted. Where Ned welcomed him each year like he’d never left. Stargazey Point was more than a summer vacation. To Cab, it was a haven and home.

  Moss Hollow Road was paved, more or less, though the sides had crumbled, and there were places that had worn down to the dirt beneath. The surrounding countryside finally changed to low-­lying fields and trees. And Cab began to breathe easier now that he was on firmer ground, at least literally if not figuratively.

  He almost missed the fork and had to back the Range Rover up to make the turn. He immediately entered a canopy of old trees, oak maybe. Still no sign of a house of any kind. He put his coffee cup in the console holder, slowed down, and leaned forward, looking for a “bottle” tree.

  Half a mile later, the tarmac ran out, and the Rover bumped slowly over a dirt road, flanked by dense trees and undergrowth. Cab began to get that prickly feeling again.

  Up ahead, he saw a glint of blue; he slowed even more. It was set back in a cleared place by the road. An old bush about eight feet high, devoid of leaves but covered with bottles. They sheathed the tips of some branches and hung from others. Every one of them was blue, the deep cobalt blue that was used for painting window frames and doors, porch ceilings and anywhere else spirits might enter.

  Of course, more of Ervina’s hoodoo. Nonetheless, Cab stopped alongside the tree, unrolled the window, and heard the slight singing of the bottles as a breeze wafted over them. It was an eerie sound. He eased the SUV forward until he saw the turnoff.

  It was hardly more than a path. The kind of path that might lead to a still, or a meth lab, a perfect place for a man to be shot for trespassing and his body never found. But he didn’t really think Ervina would send him to his death. He made the turn.

  And was immediately surrounded by scrub brush. He couldn’t have turned around it he wanted to, and he didn’t relish trying to back out. He would go another half mile, and if he didn’t find a house with Abraham in it, he’d figure out how to get out and back to the main road.

  You’re crazy to trust that old woman. She could be totally off her rocker. And no one but Ervina knew where he was going except for Penny, who gave him directions to Moss Hollow Road. And she didn’t know which fork he had taken.

  The path narrowed, and he rattled and bounced down the narrow lane, dodging branches and vines, trying to keep the Land Rover’s paint unmarred.

  It came up out of nowhere, the patch of dirt, the shotgun shack.

  And the shotgun.

  Cab saw the barrel sticking out of a minute opening of the front door. The door opened wider, and a huge black dog bounded out, teeth showing and growling like a fiend from hell.

  Cab shut the car windows.

  The dog skidded to a stop, braced on all fours and looking hungry.

  “So help me, Ervina, if I get my throat mauled because of your sense of theatre, I’ll come back to haunt you.”

  Someone stepped out on the porch. It was an old man, a really old man. With white hair and a white beard. No flowing robe, just a pair of overalls made for a much larger man. Or maybe the larger man who had worn them before he’d shrunk to this shriveled old skeleton.

  The old man started down the two steps of the shack, the shotgun pointed vaguely in the direction of the SUV. It seemed to take forever for him to complete the steps, then he limped slowly across the yard toward Cab. He stopped to say something to the dog, who sat obediently, tongue lolling.

  Which didn’t mean he wouldn’t jump up and attack at the merest provocation.

  The old guy finally made it close enough to the car to poke the shotgun in the air several times, which Cab took to mean, roll down his window.

  He rolled it down enough to converse.

  “What you want?”

  “I’m looking for someone named Abraham.”

  “What you want with him?”

  “Ervina sent me.”

  The old man cocked his head; hard eyes glinted out of dark, ashy skin.

  “Are you Abraham?”

  “Are you Ned’s boy?”

  Cab nodded. And waited while those flinty eyes studied his face.

  “You’re him.” He lowered the shotgun. Jerked his head for Cab to get out of the SUV.

  “What about your dog?”

  “He won’t hurt’cha now.”

  Hardly a comforting promise.

  “Come on, now, I don’t got all day.”

  What could he possibly have to do today, or any other day, Cab wondered. But he slowly got out of the car, his eyes flitting from the dog to the shotgun and back again.

  Abraham grinned. The man was missing most of his teeth. He was really old, and it looked like he lived alone out here in the woods. What a hell of a way to live.

  As soon as Cab shut the car door, Abraham turned and began to walk around the side of the house. The dog got up and walked by his side, casting occasional looks over his shoulder to Cab.

  Cab followed them, wondering where the hell Abraham was taking him and what he planned to do with him once he had him there.

  Behind the house was some kind of building that was half-­covered with kudzu. A quiet hum like swarming bees came from it.

  Abraham propped the shotgun against the heap. Pulled a heavy ring of keys out of his overall pockets. Looked back at Cab, then yanked at the vine. It came away with a ripping sound to reveal a corrugated shed with a thick, metal door.

  Cab’s blood began to race, half with anticipation, half with what could only be called fear.

  Abraham unlocked the door. The dog whined and tried to push past him.

  Cab was getting a really bad feeling about this. He was sure he could take the old man, but the dog was something else.

  “Thaddeus, you go on back to the house now.”

  The dog stopped pawing at the door but stood his ground.

  “Go on now.” Abraham nudged the dog with his foot.

  The dog slunk away.

  Abraham waited until he was at a distance, then looked around like he expected someone to be watching. Cab looked, too. Didn’t see a thing.

  The old man opened the door, flicked a switch, and lights blinked, then slowly began to glow. He stepped aside and motioned Cab in. Cab didn’t move. No way was he going in there and risk the old man’s locking him in for some nefarious purpose that he didn’t understand. Damn Ervina. Why hadn’t she told him what he was supposed to do here?

  “After you.”

  Abraham grinned at him and stepped inside.

  Cab reluctantly followed.

  Chapter 9

  AT FIRST ALL HE SAW were wooden crates, set side by side, creating a center aisle down the middle of the room. The room was much larger and longer than it had appeared from outside. The light was minimal, and his mind was just beginning to grasp what he might be seeing when all questions were answered. The lights popped to full wattage.

  And Cab could see the names printed on the wood. Sea horse, Jubilee horse, Fourth of July stallion. Lead horse.

  He moved slowly down the center aisle. Touching the crates as he went as if making sure they were real. Neptune’s Gondola. Harry the Pig. Rounding Boards and Drum Panels.

  Cab sucked in his breath. “They’re all here?”

  “Yessuh.”

  “But he gave up running the carousel.”

  “Yessuh. After that last big storm, he just got tired. We got all of the horses up to high ground. But he never took ’em out again. Just crated ’em up and told me to take care of ’em ’til you came for ’em.”

  Cab passed his hand over his face. Why? Why hadn’t Ned
called and asked for help. “I would have come and helped him get them set back up. He could have called me.”

  “He could have.”

  Cab shook his head, walked away from the old man, farther into the building, into the crates that housed Ned’s life’s work.

  Cab was halfway down the aisle before he saw her. Standing at the very end of the aisle between the crates, mane curling wildly, nostrils flared, black as the night. Midnight Lady.

  Cab’s footsteps slowed, stopped altogether. He glanced over at Abraham.

  Abraham slowly nodded. “Go on, boy. She been waitin’ for you. She been waitin’ a long time.”

  Cab continued on, and, after a few more feet, he realized that Abraham wasn’t following. He reached the carousel horse. She was standing on a platform, her body supported by a muslin sling that was connected to two end supports and run under the length of her body.

  Slowly, Cab reached out his hand. His fingers stopped an inch away from her shiny surface. He was hesitant to touch her, he didn’t know why. Like maybe he didn’t deserve to even see her again.

  “You’re as crazy as Ervina,” he said under his breath. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Abraham had heard. But Abraham was walking away. Cab turned back to Lady, his fingers still poised an inch away. “Hi, Lady.” His hand gently touched her back.

  EVERYTHING HE KNEW about her, every ride he had taken, every dream he’d ever had seemed to rush in on him, the way they said your life passed before your eyes right before you died.

  Strange ideas began to swirl in his head. It was the magic of the carousel. Cab had never called it that. At least not since he’d gone off to school, but he’d felt it often as a boy. He’d believed it was real, that magic. But he didn’t know where it came from now.

  Carousel magic was for children . . . and for his uncle. He smiled. Ned’s passion. He’d saved that passion for Cab, when he could have sold it and lived comfortably for the rest of his life.

  But that was crazy. What did he expect Cab to do with them? He’d have to sell them, he couldn’t subsidize the running of a money-­losing carousel in the back of beyond? Is that why Ervina hadn’t wanted to tell him where to find them. Because she knew he would have to sell them, at least donate them to someone who could preserve them properly.

  Hopefully, he could find one buyer who would not sell them piecemeal to the collectors who had sprung up over the last decade or so. Would he sell Lady, too? He couldn’t keep her. It would be sacrilege to have her standing in his living room. Alone, away from her mates.

  Maybe he should just leave them in storage. He could beef up the structure. Add better climate control. He could have them moved to a climate-­controlled storage unit closer to Atlanta.

  He coughed out a laugh. Rested his forehead on Lady’s sleek shoulder. What was he thinking? How long would he keep them locked away? Until he retired? Would he then come back to run his uncle’s carousel? An old eccentric architect . . .

  He reluctantly stepped away, his eyes feasting on Lady’s glossy black coat, peered into her wild eye as if she could read his mind. Good-­bye.

  He’d left her many times over the years, but it was worse now because he knew this would be for the last time.

  He turned away. He was being crazy. It was a wooden horse. That’s all. Just wooden animals. But as he made his way back down the aisle, the crates seemed suddenly alive. Buzzing, as if trying to get his attention, as if they were talking to each other and to him. It had to be the memories, or that crazy Ervina planting things in his head; maybe he was coming down with the flu. He hoped he wasn’t losing his mind.

  He pushed out into the sunshine, closed the door, locked it. He stood unmoving, breathing hard for a few moments, then walked around to the front of the shack on rubbery knees.

  Abraham was sitting on the stoop, his shotgun across his lap and the dog lying at his feet. They both pushed to their feet as Cab reached them.

  “Everything seems to be in good shape,” Cab said, grasping at normalcy. “I didn’t open any of the crates, but if Lady is any indication, then the rest should be good.”

  “They be good. Got a bit of damage, some of ’em, but Mr. Ned, he worked on ’em, so they wouldn’t get worse. They been locked up tight so no weather or critter could get to ’em.”

  “I don’t suppose he told you what I was supposed to do with them?”

  “He said you’d know what to do.”

  “Great.” Cab frowned at the old man. “Do you come with them?”

  “No suh, I just been sittin’ with ’em until you come to get ’em.”

  Cab rubbed his chin. Christ. He needed to think. Make arrangements. Buy some time. “Would you be willing to, uh, sit with them a while longer? I’d be willing to pay you extra.”

  “Go on now. This is my home.” He lifted the shotgun. “I’ll make sure nobody gets near ’em. But don’t take too long. Those animals’ll last longer than both of us. So don’t you take too long.”

  “No. I’ll be in touch.” Cab didn’t even ask if there was a phone number where he could be reached. He would just call Sarah Davis and have her tell Ervina what he decided. Then Ervina could teleport or telepath, or whatever she claimed to do, the message to Abraham.

  Cab drove back to town, thinking about Ned’s leaving the animals under Abraham’s armed guard. His mind was in turmoil. Bailey had been right after all, but for the wrong reasons. He shouldn’t have come—­because these ­people mattered. They mattered more than they should. Would he forget about them once he got back to Atlanta?

  Probably. Life would go on, he would get busy, Ned would slip back into that quiet place in his heart and gradually fade from thought. Bethanne, Penny, and Sarah would mesh into vague memories, Beau and Hadley, even Ervina would be pushed to the back of his mind and slowly forgotten.

  Is that what he wanted? And how could he explain to them what he felt and what he was going to do?

  When he got back to Stargazey, he parked at the Inn, but instead of going inside, he walked down the street to Hadley’s store for a cold Coke.

  He pulled a bottle out of the ancient cooler on the porch. Let the cold, melted-­ice water drip off the bottle onto his fingers, then to the floor. He turned to go inside to pay just as a little boy ran out the door.

  “Grab him,” Hadley yelled.

  Cab scooped the boy up and carried him, kicking and wriggling, back into the store. Cab set him down on the wooden floor but kept a firm hold on his arm. He couldn’t be more than five years old, too skinny, and already shoplifting. It was sad.

  Hadley came around the counter and frowned down at the boy as he struggled to get away.

  “Now what do you have there, Joe?”

  Slowly, Joe stretched out his hand to reveal a candy bar.

  “Only got one?”

  The boy’s eyes bugged, and his bottom lip protruded like he might cry. Cab reached for his wallet.

  Hadley shook him off. “You gonna share that with your sister?”

  Joe was looking at the ground, but his head bobbed up and down.

  “Don’t you think maybe she might want her own Mars bar?”

  The head pumped up and down.

  Hadley reached over to the candy display and got another candy bar, which he stuck below Joe’s bowed head. Joe looked up, his eyes round and full of disbelief.

  “You go get Dani, and you both come eat your candy right here on the porch, where I can see you.”

  Joe grabbed for the candy, but Hadley held it away and managed to extricate the other one from Joe’s hand.

  “Hadley,” Cab protested.

  “You go get her and bring her here. And you’ll get your candy back.”

  Joe bit his lip, then shot toward the door. He was back two minutes later with his body double. “Here she is,” Joe panted out.

  “Mornin’,
Miz Dani. Now you both come here.”

  They walked dutifully toward Hadley, heads lowered. Joe was visibly shaking.

  Hadley squatted. “Joe, have I ever laid a hand on you?”

  Joe’s head wobbled back and forth.

  “No one’s ever gonna hurt you in this store, you get that?”

  Both children nodded in tandem.

  “No one.” Hadley held out the candy bars.

  Dani and Joe just looked at them.

  “You know stealing’s a crime.”

  “Don’t send us to jail,” cried Dani.

  “I ain’t. I’m gonna give you this candy. But I better never ever hear or see you do any stealin’ here or anyplace again. If you need something that bad, you come and tell Hadley, and we’ll see what we can do. Understand?”

  Two children nodded.

  “Now go out and sit on the porch and eat your candy. And don’t tell your uncle nothin’ about this.”

  Both heads shook. Two hands simultaneously reached out and snagged the candy bars. They shot out the door together.

  “They don’t have nothin’,” Hadley said. “ ’Ceptin a drunk for an uncle, who beats ’em. Crying shame.”

  “That was a nice thing to do,” Cab said, and pulled out a ten for his Coke.

  “We all try to look out for them. Don’t know why they don’t learn to ask for what they need.” He handed Cab his change.

  “Keep it.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to. You can order more candy bars for next time.”

  “Well, I thank you. So Beau said you were over at the carousel yesterday.”

  “Yeah. It’s really a mess.”

  “Too many storms, too hard to keep up. Ned couldn’t find steady workers to help him run the thing.”

  “Yeah, this end of town seems to have gotten hit worse than the rest.”

  “Maybe a bit, but this whole town is going to hell in a handbasket, I don’t care how many times you paint it.” Hadley sighed. “It’s hard to keep rebuilding time and again, and after Ned closed down the carousel for the last time, well, folks just kinda let things go.”