“Sure,” he drawled. “I got out here now and then and we’d talk. Not as much as Jim here, though. But then, one week, he wasn’t around, so it was just me and Jim. I was as surprised as anyone when I found out what happened to him. Carl was in good health as far as I knew.”
“How about the trip to South Carolina? Did you know anything about that?”
“He never mentioned anything about it to me.”
“Was he acting differently? Anything like that?”
Jerrold shook his head. “Not that I could tell.”
I rocked back on my heels, wondering if I was wasting my time. Surprising me, Jerrold slowly rose from the chair. He had to grip both arms and moving into the vertical position seemed both laborious and painful.
“You two go ahead and visit,” he said. “Maybe Jim knows something I don’t. He knew Carl better than I did. But talk loud, toward his right ear. It barely works, but don’t even bother trying with the left one.”
“You don’t have to leave,” I said.
“You’ll need my chair. He won’t admit it, but he needs to be able to see your lips moving so he can figure out what you’re saying. He’ll get about half of what you say, so just keep trying.”
“Where are you going?” Jim said.
“I’m hungry,” Jerrold shouted. “I want some food.”
“Huh?”
Jerrold waved him off and looked toward me. “Don’t just stand there looking dumb as a tree. Take a seat. I’ll be back.”
I watched as Jerrold shuffled toward the door, and when he was safely inside, I sat in the same rocker, then leaned forward as Jerrold had done.
“Hi,” I shouted. “I’m Trevor Benson.”
“River fencing?”
“Trevor Benson,” I said again. “I’m Carl’s grandkid.”
“Who?”
“Carl!” I said even louder, wondering if I should have kept Jerrold around to translate.
“Oh, Carl,” Jim said. “He passed on.”
“I know. He was my kin,” I said, hoping Jerrold’s phrasing would help.
Jim squinted at me and I could tell he was searching. It took a few beats.
“The Navy doc? You were married to Claire, right?”
“Yes,” I said, even though Claire had been my mother. No reason to make it any more complicated than it already was.
“He sure liked those bees, old Carl,” Jim added. “Had them a long time. Beehives. For the honey.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “I wanted to speak to you about Carl.”
“I don’t much like bees,” he said. “Never could figure out what he saw in ’em.”
Trying to keep it simple, I opted for the direct approach. “I have some questions that I was hoping you could answer.”
Jim didn’t seem to hear me. “Carl had a hard time with the honey last summer,” Jim said. “Arthritis.”
He pronounced it arthur-itis.
“He probably did…”
“He got help from the girl, though,” Jim added, not hearing me.
“Girl?”
“Yeah,” Jim said. “The girl. Inside.”
“Okay,” I said, wondering what he was talking about. I hadn’t seen any girls in the store today, but Claude had warned me his mind wandered. Leaving that behind, I leaned closer, speaking slowly and replicating Jerrold’s volume.
“Do you know why Carl went to South Carolina?”
“Carl died in South Carolina.”
“I know,” I said. “Do you know why Carl went to South Carolina?” I asked again.
Jim took a bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly before answering. “I reckon he was going to visit Helen.”
For a second, I wondered if he’d understood my question.
“Helen? He was going to visit Helen?” I shouted.
“Yep. Helen. That’s what he told me.”
Or was that what Jim had heard? How much could I trust his hearing? Or the competence of his memory? I wasn’t sure.
“When did he tell you about Helen?”
“Huh?”
I repeated the question, even louder this time, and Jim reached for a hush puppy. He took a bite and it took him a long time to finally swallow. “I reckon about a week or so before he left. He was working on the truck.”
To make sure it could get there, no doubt, but…who was Helen? How would my grandfather have met a woman from South Carolina? He had neither a computer nor a cell phone, and he rarely left New Bern. It didn’t add up…