* * *
So of course he shows up, later that afternoon, when I’m shoveling a path to the outhouse again. Slogs right into the yard on a pair of snowshoes that look like they’re about a hundred years old, only this time in the snow’s silence I heard the swish swish of him coming through the snow. Saw him from way off, first time ever he didn’t catch me off guard and send my heart shooting into my throat.
“You have a guest,” he says, gesturing toward Marie’s car.
“Jake’s sister, Marie.”
“You holding her captive?” He laughs, his voice filling the deep silence of the woods.
“The snow.”
He spits to the side. “I saw the car coming down the road last night. I was fixing to head down here, but then I determined you could handle it. Told myself if you needed my help, you have the flare.”
I shovel the spot where Scotland spit, the tobacco a brown spot in the snow. “That’s right. If I ever need you, I have the flare.” I’m hoping he’ll take a hint: quit showing up here and meddling in our business. Quit watching us. Given how the past eight years have gone, I doubt he gets the message.
He pulls a chunk of ice from the roof of the outhouse. “I saw the two of you unloading her vehicle and figured it must be someone Jake sent. With your supplies and hers, you ought to be well stocked for quite some time.”
“Jake’s dead.”
Scotland closes his eyes and folds his gloved hands across his abdomen. Takes a deep breath and tilts his head to the sky. “He’s with the Lord now. No longer suffering this world and its heartaches.”
“Or he’s just dead.”
He shakes his head. “No, Cooper. It’s not like that. This world, it’ll tear the guts right out of you. As you well know. But this isn’t all there is.” He clears his throat then tilts his head to the sky and begins to sing: “‘Come Thou Fount of every blessing, Tune my heart to sing Thy grace…’”
Warm from the shoveling, I unzip my jacket. That haunting, smooth singing voice of his. How can it be so irritating and so heartbreaking, all at once?
“Just wish you could see it, that’s all.” He packs a snowball in his bare hands. “Does Marie know?”
I keep on shoveling the path. “Know what?”
“Oh, come now, Cooper. Don’t be coy. I mean does she know who you are?”
“We met once, a long time ago. She knows Jake and I served in the Middle East together.”
“And the rest of it?”
“Why do you care?”
He lobs the snowball at a tree nearby. “It’s a simple question, Cooper.”
“Jake told her I lost Cindy and I’m staying here until I get my footing.”
“Get your footing.” He grunts. “That’s one way of putting it.”
I toss a shovel of snow at Scotland’s feet.
“You gonna tell her?” he asks.
“No, I’m not gonna tell her. I don’t even know her.”
“But you want to. Know her better.”
“She’ll be gone as soon as the snow melts.”
“Secrets, secrets,” he clucks, shaking his head.
Finch bounds out of the house, her jacket unzipped and flapping at her sides. Boots but no hat or gloves. “Scotland!” She runs to him, arms open. “We had a snowball fight. We rode the sled.”
He kneels down and hugs her. “I saw that, little bird. It sure looked fun.” He glances at me. “Your daddy sent me a hand signal.”
“You should’ve come down.”
“Well,” he says, casting a meaningful look in my direction, “I wasn’t invited. I didn’t want to crash the party.”
“You’re never invited,” Finch says. “But you’re always welcome. And you always know just the right time to come, somehow. You always know just when we need you.”
Marie steps onto the porch, all bundled up. She trudges through the snow and extends her hand. “Hi there,” she says. “I’m Marie.”
“Scotland, your neighbor. I knew your family.”
“I’m afraid I don’t remember.”
I refrain from explaining that when Scotland says he knew them, what he means is that he spied on them, watched their every move through a spotting scope.
“You were small,” he says. “Anyway, you’re back. Snowed in, it seems. And a wonderful place to be stuck for a while, if I do say so myself.”
She doesn’t answer, instead gesturing for Finch to come closer. She pulls the hat over Finch’s head, then slides the pink gloves onto her hands.