Chapter Four: Sam Courts Death
"Shame when young-ins die. Makes you kinda angry at God. All us old folks in this town and three young-ins. Just can't make sense of it." Sam shook his head and cast his eyes out toward the funeral procession passing by the front windows of The Pit Stop.
Logan sat in on the opposite side of the booth and never looked up from his pancakes, three eggs, biscuits and gravy, hash browns, steak, and a side order of bacon.
"Boy, do you eat like that every day? ‘Cause if you do, then Death will be knocking on your door before you know it." Sam looked at Logan's food and then at his lone coffee cup.
"Do you think about dying?" inquired Logan, now seeming to lose all interest in his meal. He laid his fork to the side and stared into Sam's eyes.
"Well now, since my Emily has been gone, I guess it has crossed my mind a bit but not something I find myself dwelling on." Sam noticed Logan's intense frowning as he talked. Now, you ain't a thinking about, you know, cashing in your own chips are you fella?"
"Cashing in my chips?" Logan had no idea what Sam was talking about.
"Ahh, you know." Sam was getting mighty squirmy about all this kind of talk. He needed more coffee. "Selma," Sam yelled to the back of the restaurant. Selma came out of the back wiping her hands on her towel that was slung over one shoulder without removing it from its usual spot.
"Okay, Sam, ya don't have to yell for the next town to hear. I ain't deaf yet." The waitress filled Sam's cup and turned her attention to Logan. "I kinda thought you would peter out before you got all that down." She picked up the plates and headed to the kitchen, the swinging doors swaying back and forth in her wake.
Logan waited for the waitress to busy herself with a couple that just entered the Pit Stop. By their dress, they must have just left the funeral of Bobby Harrigan. He then turned his attention back to Sam.
"Why don't you come out to the house tonight and have some supper and we'll set on the porch and look at the stars? That'll make anyone feel better and you'll probably be needing that after you taste my cooking. Emily was always the cook in the house. I can't do much more than cook a steak and nuke a potato. So now you know whatcha eating. How’s about it?" Sam sounded almost hopeful.
Even if this fella was kind of strange, Sam welcomed the company. Nights out at the old house were long and too quiet without his Emily.
Logan nodded his head, pursed his lips, and seemed to think a moment.
"It's my house or the Pit Stop and the evening cook picks his nose." Sam chuckled at that last bit.
Logan knew this was the opportunity that he had been waiting for and wonder why he hesitated. "I'll be there." He finally answered. Logan laid a twenty on the table as he rose to leave.
"Hey, Logan, you don't know where I live. Let me write down the directions, everything looks about the same around these parts, easy to get lost." Sam grabbed a napkin and started to yell at Thelma for a pen but Logan turned his head and looked over his shoulder.
"I'll find you." Logan said and breezed out the door just as the second procession began the parade through town. There would be even another funeral today because there was no morgue in Calgary Creek. Doc Dowd was going to be one busy man before Death left town.
Logan was hard to miss in such a small place. He liked larger towns where he could blend in and observe quietly but he hated big cities. The last time he was in New York he thought how nice a plague would fit in here. Being Death did not make one more tolerant of assholes. More than one cab driver bit the dust when he visited last. The news even reported that there might have been a serial killer loose in the city targeting cab drivers.
Here in Calgary Creek, he stood out like a sore thumb, just a throbbing under the finger nail of this quiet little town. Logan had often heard people describe his "visits" as a feeling in their bones that something just ain't right. Guess that just about summed it up.
Logan walked back to the motel to shower and change clothes. He felt the presence of all the dead citizens of Calgary Creek clinging to him in the red clay dust of the scorched town. He knew he had no business here, but here, was the answer to the question that he has been seeking. It was hidden in the soul of Samuel Livesay.
Goody Maeberry was the town gossip. Anything a person needed or wanted to know, she knew. By the time the small local newspaper went to print each Wednesday, most people already knew more than the paper printed because Goodie had already made her rounds around town to spread her own twist to the stories. Goodie Maeberry claimed to be a psychic but everyone knew that Goodie was just very good at eavesdropping. She left no stone or secret unturned when she was onto an interesting story and that tall mysterious stranger that just came to town had Goodie all a twitter with curiosity.
Goodie was keeping her eye on him.
Goodie Maeberry had given up on trying talking to the stranger. Her target had moved to Sam, who just happened to be straight ahead. Sam was seen by Harry Martin with the stranger at the Pit Stop. Sara Mays had told her when Goodie had dropped by the post office to see if anyone had gotten any interesting packages. Goodie caught up with Sam as he walked out of the grocery.
"Didn't see you at church again Sunday, Sam. I told the Pastor that I had personally invited you. You know how it just brightens up my Sunday to walk up that sidewalk like I am walking straight to the Gate of Heaven." Her breath heaved as she spit out her words. Goodie had a problem with having enough breath to talk and walk at the same time. Sam thought that that lack of oxygen to the brain probably had something to do with Goodie's lack of good sense. That woman stuck her nose into everything and one day that was going to get her in heaps of trouble. More than one person had almost filled her cotton covered bottom with buckshot for peeping in windows at night. Some would have shot her anyway 'cept that she was a woman.
Sam nodded his head. "Evenin' Goodie." He kept walking hoping he could out pace Goodie. Nut no such luck. She had a mind to follower her nose till she dropped. After the fake pleasantries, Goodie got to the real point of the one sided conversation.
"Sam! Just who is that strange dark devil you been seen around town with? I thought your family was all gone. Rumor has it that you are selling your farm...." Goodie tapered off, leaving an opening for Sam to continue.
Sam shook his head and looked at Goodie and pulled his arm away slowly and with intent.
"Miss Goodie you are a piece of work." Sam walked a tad faster, trying not to be rude but hoping she got the message.
Goodie smiled smugly as if complimented. Sam never forgot that it was Goodie Maeberry that announced to the town that Emily had cancer, before Emily had even told Sam. Goodie's doctor appointment just happened to have coincided with Emily's and that night at prayer meeting, Goodie announced that Emily needed prayers for her cancer with a bold smile on her face as if she had just won the derby. Emily began to cry and Sam never went to church again. He lent a hand when needed but never stood witness to another sermon. There were just too many Goodie Maeberrys roaming around unattended, and at least one too many in Calgary Creek. Sam wished Goodie a good day and almost ran to his car. He turned and waved at Goodie hoping she got the hint, yet knowing, not a chance. The look of determination was wrinkling her face as he drove off. God save us all from the Goodie Maeberrys of this world, Sam thought.
Sam was just starting to throw the steaks on the grill when he saw Logan driving up to the house. Logan rose up out of the Cadillac with a slow scan of his surroundings.
This place is as dry as Hell, Logan thought.
The dust whipped around in little dust devils around his feet as he walked toward the front porch of the old house. Sam greeted him from the grill. The steaks smelled good as they made small talk and shared a beer. Sam did most of the talking and Logan listened with rapt attention. After supper they stretched back on the porch with heels resting on the old railing leading around the porch area of the house.
&
nbsp; The lightening bugs were beginning to flutter here and there. Darkness was drifting in on them and with it, an intimacy of loneliness settled over Sam. It was at this time of day when Sam missed Emily the most.
"You still miss her?" Logan said so low that Sam barely heard the words.
"Yes." Sam croaked out just as quietly. Both seemed to know just what the other meant.
"It wasn't supposed to be this way. She was the good one. I was supposed to go before her. She was the strong one, the one that kept things going. " Sam continued to talk as if a dam had broken.
"She was the one that made us a family. She her love guided me through my days and everything I did was for her. When she got sick, I watched the light slowly die in her eyes till pain was all that was left. I saw God suck out every bit of life out of her and leave me with nothing. I just keep going knowing that I will see her again someday. She believed that so I have to believe it too. I keep doing what I think she would want me to do. But I am getting tired." Sam rubbed his face with both hands. He sat up placing his elbows on his knees, his hands hanging between his legs. He gazed out at the desolate fields that once held so much promise of a "good life." He felt the pain of loss that kept him company since Em had been gone. When Logan spoke he jumped as if he had forgotten that Logan was there.
"Why do you think she is waiting for you?" asked Logan
"Because she promised,' whispered Sam, "and she never lies."
"She believed love always wins and so I have to believe that too. I have too." Sam was beginning to tear up. Why was he talking to this man like this. He felt like something, or someone, was ripping these words from his soul.
"Have you ever just thought about taking your own life and speeding things up?" Logan was being very nonchalant about the whole conversation. Sam was taken aback at first by the bluntness of the question. He felt as if Logan could see right through him and it made him angry for some reason or was it fear.
"Do you think I have not thought about it!" Sam was beginning to raise his voice and the pain was pulling at his heart like four horsemen themselves.
Words seemed to be pulled from him.
"I have sharpened that old razor my Father left me more than once and it wasn't for shaving. All I hear is Emily's voice in my head telling me that I am committing a sin and that won't get me into Heaven. Then, I get down on my knees and pray to Emily's God that she is right and that I will one day see her again. "
Sam's confession had exhausted the old man. He fell silent and the soft sound of the night bugs sang hauntingly. Sam was not sure how long they sat there not speaking. Logan lifted his beer for another drink.
Logan knew now why he had come to Calgary. What he had to do. He did not know the outcome. That was going to be up to Sam. He rose and thanked Sam for the meal. Sam briefly looked up at Logan and nodded as if he knew too. There were no other words. It had been said.