Special Episode: Living Memory
The episode below is part of a larger story, Soft Touch. If you haven’t yet, you can go back and read it from the beginning right here.
This argument has gone on for altogether too long. I am reaching a level of frustration that I’ve scarce felt since I left my father’s house. I may as well be at one of his gaudy dinners, stuck on a red plush couch, listening to the self-important ramblings of his associates. Their endless debates about manners, aesthetics, aristocratic values. The only things of any import to them.
Of course, both the debate and its participants are quite different, now. But only slightly less of a headache.
I rub my temples, let out a long sigh. Pierce, who is leading the charge against me, scoffs at once.
“Do we tire you, Clarke?” He spits onto the grass, barely missing my boots. I make a point not to move or react, to keep my eyes firmly on his. “As if it ain’t you who started this fight.”
It’s unsurprising that Pierce would be on board with tonight’s venture. He’s used to getting his hands dirty. The way he tells it, he spent years in London as a petty thief, graduated to a housebreaker before the blues closed in on him. He fled the gallows, and then the country, and ended up here.
I could care less about his thieving from the lavish villas of the rich and powerful - I rather think it would have been amusing, if such a thing had happened to my father’s estate - but tonight, he’s a splinter in my side.
“Pierce,” I begin, only to be immediately interrupted.
“You was sellin’ a different story just yesterday,” he says.
I almost wince at his volume.
We’re a good ways back from the first farmhouse we’re meant to visit, where the residents have long since gone to bed, unsuspecting. The surrounding forest is deep and vast, shrouded in night. Darkness hangs on every leaf, cheating the eyes of any clear view into the green depths. Huge, inky shadows shift around us. The weather is unusually hazy, thick clouds occasionally covering the moon.
We are hidden well by night and forest. Regardless, I wish that Pierce would keep his voice down.
His presence was not a problem I anticipated. I had thought that Newman would send only rivermen, but now I suspect that he simply rounded up the biggest, burliest blokes in the company, regardless of their position. I don’t even recognize some of these men.
If it was only the beat crew, everyone would listen to me. In fact, all of the beat crew men here are quiet, looking to me. It’s the others who are causing the problem.
“What, you can’t use the money, Clarke?” jumps in some man from the mill. Shaler, I think his name is. “Got nothing you want for yourself?”
I have a feeling that I’m the only one who saw fit to negotiate with Newman on the price for this. I’ve secured myself the promise of promotion to walking boss. It’s likely that I have more on the line than anyone else here, but it’s not worth saying.
“I could use it, just like the rest of you boys,” I tell him firmly, “But this ain’t right.”
Pierce tosses his hands in the air. “Newman said-”
“Put fear into some innocent farming folks. That’s what he said, more or less.” I try to keep my voice calm, as well as I can. “It’s one thing to melt down some candlesticks from a country house, Pierce, but this - this is ghastly. Monstrous. I will not do it.”
Shaler jumps in, tries again. “Only yesterday, you said-”
Despite my best efforts, my frustration breaks through. “Damnation, Shaler, I have changed my mind!”
“It ain’t murder, Clarke,” Shaler says. “It’s - relocation.”
“Where shall they relocate to, when we’ve taken everything they have?”
“Newman’s gonna pay ‘em, just like he’s paying us!”
“A pittance, I’d wager,” someone says quietly.
We all look over at the man who spoke. He stands towards the back of the group, away from everyone else. I don’t know him, but he caught my notice the moment he joined us, mostly for his size. We’re all the biggest lads in the company, but this man stands of a height with me, and more built than any of the rest.
He shrinks back when all eyes turn on him, then shrugs his wide shoulders.
“I do the books,” he says, gazing up over our heads. “I know Newman. He’d pay these people one solitary silver groat, if he could get away with it.”
The man speaks so softly that we all have to lean forward to hear him. My heart lifts to find an unexpected ally, but as soon as he gets his words out, Pierce scoffs again.
“Who asked you, Finch?” he snaps. “Hush your noise.”
“Let the man alone.” I frown at Pierce, swiftly growing weary of his noise. “He makes a fair point. Newman will cheat these people out of their homes, and just as likely cheat us out of our payment.”
Shaler lets out an exasperated sound. “Clarke, listen-”
“This is Newman’s lay,” I tell him, trying one more time. “You don’t have to make it yours.”
Pierce tosses his hands into the air again. “Clarke! Are you so weak-stomached that-?”
“If this sits well with your conscience,” I interrupt, “Then do it. But it shall never be so with me. I renounce this. I’m leaving.” I slowly roam my gaze around the circle of men. “Who will come with me?”
The group falls quiet. There’s a terrible moment where I think that none will move, but then Thomas, one of the beat crew men, strides silently to join me. He’s followed by Mathias, then Sydney, Joaquín, Edwin, and Ira. Then Emilio, who casts a dark look at Pierce before he goes, and then Johannes...
One by one, all of the beat crew boys move to stand at my back. The cluster splits in two, half behind Pierce and Shaler, half behind me.
I wait, in case we have any latecomers, but no one else moves. I fold my arms over my chest, then shake my head, dragging my eyes over the lot of them.
“Seal thy shame,” I mutter, and turn on my heel.
The beat crew men spread out behind me, following me back into the thick of the forest.
“Cowards!” Pierce shouts. “Panting at Clarke’s heels, like so many spaniels! Cowards, all of you!”
We’re already well out of sight of the group when Emilio plucks at my sleeve.
“Will,” he murmurs. “Espera un segundo. We’ve got a straggler.”
I glance over my shoulder to find that the bloke Pierce called Finch is trailing after us, some distance behind.
He seems surprised when we stop and wait for him, but he joins us without a word. Sydney clasps his shoulder, and he gets a slap on the back from both Joaquín and Edwin.
I catch eyes with him, and nod.
He’s pulled into the group, and we all set off again.
The cool wind glides against my face. An owl calls out from somewhere overhead. We go in silence for a stretch, and then Ira says what everyone is thinking.
“Boss won’t be happy with us.”
I’m not so foolish as to think that Richard Newman will let a slight of this magnitude lie.
“Leave him to me,” I respond, though I’m not yet sure what I will do.
Take responsibility, of course. Make it seem as if I dragged the others away with me. My promotion was lost the moment I turned my back on this, perhaps even my job, but it’s a price I must pay.
I haven’t a plan, but my answer seems to reassure the boys.
“Dramshop?” Mathias suggests, to a general sound of assent from the others. “Will?”
“Not tonight.” A drink wouldn’t be amiss right now, but I need time to think, to consider my next steps. What to say to Newman, and more importantly, what to say to Ariana. “Go on, though. Have one for me.”
I part ways with the rest of the men when we reach the road. They call out their farewells, then make for the tavern, breaking into chatter. I take the road towards the men’s quarters. This path will make it a longer walk, but that’s what I need.
I go a few steps, then hear heavy footfalls behind me.
A quick look over my shoulder reveals that Finch is in my wake, following me in silence.
I slow to a stop and wait for him to catch up, wondering why he didn’t call out. He does not say a word as he draws even with me.
The road has better light than the forest, and as the moon slips out from behind the clouds, I realize that I actually do recognize him, though we haven’t spoken before tonight. At first, I can’t think why I recall him. Slowly, it dawns on me.
His sister had some kind of accident as a child, one that badly damaged her fingers. She always wears gloves, everywhere she goes. When told to remove them, she trembles, comes close to tears. The boys in town who think themselves funny make a game of trying to make her take them off.
I have seen Finch at the market, spending his measly wages to buy her new pairs of gloves. Colorful pairs, pretty ones, ones with buttons that can’t be quickly undone.
A good man, I decide, and smile at him as we begin to walk together.
“What’s your name, friend?”
He glances over at me, surprised again. “Caleb.”
“I thought I heard Pierce call you Finch.”
His expression darkens with frustration.
“Caleb,” he insists, adamant. “Caleb Callahan.”
“So - Finch is a nickname?” I ask. “One you don’t care for?”
Caleb lets out a quiet, hollow laugh. “It would take a pretty voice indeed, to make me like that name.”
“Sounds as if you have a voice in mind.”
“Yes. But I am not quite so deluded as to think I’ll ever hear her say it. And I wish that others would not.”
“Caleb, then,” I answer, and he flashes me a grateful look.
The road leads us back into the darkness of the forest. In the distance, I can hear the river, its flowing movement.
“What made you change your mind, Caleb?” I ask.
“It - sat wrong with me, from the go.”
I can see that, now. His complexion is healthy, but he pales with discomfort at the mere mention of tonight’s scheme.
He trips over a root hidden in the shadows. Stumbles a little. I catch his arm, and he straightens up again, his cheeks reddening slightly.
There’s truly no need for him to be embarrassed. He’s a clerk, so he works indoors. He’s not accustomed to the forest, not attuned to its silent mysteries. The night is so deep, here. Creatures roost unseen in the virgin woodlands around us. The chestnut trees grow so wide and tall that they block entire swaths of our field of view, sending vast shadows stretching over the path.
“My father lives this way,” Caleb explains, “But I do not often traverse the roads so late.”
I slip my watch from my pocket, open it. Look down at the ticking hands for the time.
“Too late to travel alone,” I say, as Caleb eyes an upcoming fork in the path. “Especially unarmed.”
“It’s not far. I can manage it.”
“Are you quite sure?”
“Yes, thank you.”
I shrug my shoulders, push the watch back into my pocket. We walk in silence for a moment, and then Caleb returns my question to me.
“What made you change your mind?”
The truth is my own, so I settle for only a piece of my reasoning. “It did not sit well with me, either.”
Another silence. Quiet man, this. But that’s a welcome change after too long spent in Pierce’s presence.
We come to the fork in the road, and Caleb hesitates, running his ink-stained fingers over his mouth.
“Do you think they’ll do it?” he asks abruptly.
He glances over his shoulder, as if we might see Pierce and Shaler approaching the farmhouse with the others.
I grimace, let out a sigh. “Yes. I’m sure they’ve already begun.”
Caleb absorbs that, and then crosses himself. “May God remember them for good.”
I nod slowly, surprised that he’d wish well upon Pierce and Shaler after their harsh words to him.
“God remember them for good,” I repeat, slipping my hands into my pockets. “Goodnight, Callahan.”
He nods at me. “Fair travels, Clarke.”
We part ways, and I am alone in the forest. I walk quietly, lost in my thoughts, paying little attention to where I’m going.
I do not realize that I’ve wandered to the river until I hear its familiar rush in my ears.
The path led me to the bridge. I stride out onto its wooden surface and stop halfway across. I remove my jacket and hat, set them aside. Fold my sleeves up. Let the cold air bring me some calm, some clarity.
I lean my elbows on the railing, taking deep breaths.
What will I say to Ariana?
I promised that I would not keep her waiting much longer, that I’d find the means to support us. I thought that I could do this one thing, even if it was hateful, against my morals - if it meant that I could finally marry her.
It’s only once, I told myself, as if that meant anything at all.
The moment I realized that I could not tell Ariana the truth about this, I should have also realized what a terrible mistake it was. I kept it from her because she would have tried to talk me out of it. She would never want me to do this. That should have told me everything I needed to know.
She wouldn’t want me hiding things from her, either. She would want the truth, so that’s what I’ll give her. I’ll go to her, tell her everything, hope that she can wait for me a little bit longer.
Soon, my love, I think, leaning into my elbows. I’ll find some other way. We’ll grow old together, just like I promised.
The clouds move, and moonlight spills down onto the bridge. I gaze out at the water, deep in my thoughts - then straighten up, frowning.
I cannot say what, but something is amiss.
There is a very unusual stillness to the air. I hear not bird, critter, or creature of any kind. The river is flowing at a normal velocity, the breeze is shifting gently through the trees, and yet -
I feel as if the forest is holding its breath.
A scream shatters the silence. “Will!”
I twist on the bridge, startled and confused. The new moonlight aids my eyes, and I see - someone running along the riverbank. Not just running, racing, weaving through the trees, her long hair streaming out behind her. She’s without shoes, her bare feet kicking up the mud.
Reaching for me, sapphire eyes filled with panic.
“Ari?” I say blankly, struggling to make sense of this. I start to walk the rest of the way across the bridge, then begin to run. Ariana does not break stride, sprinting so fast that I could swear her feet aren’t touching the ground.
I jolt to a stop again as a strange, unsettling sound peals through the air. The jangling of church bells. Not the smooth, practiced strikes of a bellringer, but jarring and discordant, as if nature herself had picked up the church and shaken it.
And then, just as suddenly, a far greater noise. This one seems to rise from the very earth. A hoarse, vibrating sound, like thunder. The loudest thunder I’ve ever heard.
In tandem with this noise comes something like every animal in the forest bursting into frightened chaos at once.
The combined cacophony is staggering, and I throw my hands over my ears, gasping.
A massive movement rolls through the ground, like a wave. The river begins to boil, as if some unseen storm is ravaging its surface.
The water draws towards the middle of the riverbed, then rushes the banks in one gigantic, fearful torrent. Before my eyes, entire groves of cottonwood trees are uprooted and hurled into the water. Willows are torn from their roots, snapped as if they were mere toothpicks.
The crash of their falling is a sound of apocalyptic proportions. The entire world seems to be crumbling around me.
An earthquake.
The bridge beneath me lurches violently, then buckles.
I turn back to Ariana, and see her running as if in slow motion, the tears streaming down her face picking up the moonlight. I am in shock, such a dreamlike state that I do not hear her calling for me, only see her mouth moving.
And then I begin to run, faster than I’ve ever run before in my life. For the riverbank. For her.
The bridge is being thrown around like a feather in a windstorm, shaken with furious convulsions, pieces of it torn away as I run. Icy terror spreads through my chest, but all I can think about is Ariana, who darts around a falling tree without stopping, doesn’t turn back as it liquefies the soil behind her - she’s in danger, and I have to reach her.
There’s a huge, heart-stopping snap from somewhere below the bridge.
“No!” Ariana screams.
She’s so close now, almost to the place on the bank where the bridge connects, and I’m so close to her, so close -
The bridge falls from beneath my feet.
I feel it happening, and in a desperate, reflexive act, I try to leap the remaining distance. I spring into the air, feel the rush of the wind against my face, through my hair, my clothes.
Ariana reaches for me, and I reach for her. Somehow, in the midst of all this, our eyes meet. I look into her sapphire gaze, the only place that’s ever really felt like home. Her eyes are icy blue, in the moonlight. For one breathless moment, I think I will reach her.
But it was an impossible leap. There was too great a distance left.
Ariana cries out. “Will!”
Her voice is the last sound I hear before the waters close over my head.
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