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By Root 937 0

accidents. He lived for such moments, as a matter of fact. After he managed to save someone, he felt so alive and euphoric, he had to polish off three or four beers in order to calm down. On those nights, he never managed to get to sleep, and instead he went out walking. He loved New York, how it seemed to have its own heartbeat, how you could be on a crowded street and still be alone. On weekends he took Cody to Central Park, where he liked to hike through the Ramble. In the middle of the city, he was reminded of Hightop Mountain. The way the sun streaked through the trees was so similar, here and in Blackwell. The light was pure and lemon colored, and there were bees nesting in the fallen logs. When James knelt in the leaves and listened to them buzzing, he forgot all the disasters he’d witnessed, the blood and sorrow and death.

JOHN MOTT FELL ill one damp, green spring. His heart condition was unexpected and devastating, too advanced for a cure. James got the call in the middle of the night. He realized that three years had passed since he’d been home. He wondered how that had happened. Time was trickier than he’d imagined it to be. Now when he looked at his dog, he realized that Cody was suddenly old. James’s mother had come to New York several times, but his father didn’t like cities, or perhaps he was still unable to say good-bye.

James broke the speed limit driving up Highway 91, an edge of panic coursing through him as he crossed the Massachusetts line. He went directly to the Blackwell Hospital. It was late when he got there. He forgot how soft the nights were in Blackwell, how dark the countryside was. He was surprised by how small his hometown hospital seemed compared with the ones where he’d worked in New York City. He left his dog in the car and went inside. John Mott was asleep; there was nothing to do but wait. James went to stand against the window ledge. He felt awkward and much too big. He was used to action, not standing still. He had thought his father would look like a stranger, but he didn’t. John Mott opened his eyes. He smiled when he saw James, then closed his eyes again.

When Louise arrived first thing in the morning, James was still there, sitting in a hard-backed chair. They kept a vigil together all that week and watched John Mott die. The fact that he hadn’t said good-bye to his father was tearing at James. He wanted to get drunk, run away, jump in the Eel River, but he did none of these things. He only left the hospital to go out and feed Cody, then walk him through the woods beside the parking lot. That’s where he was when his father died. When he went back to the room, John Mott was already gone. His mother said, “He loved you best of all,” but that only made things worse. James did go out and get drunk that night, at the Jack Straw Bar and Grill. He had the sort of expression on his face that made people avoid him. His old girlfriend, Brooke Linden, was there with a crowd of her friends. She came up and told him she’d heard about his father and wanted to say how sorry she was. John Mott had busted her youngest brother when the boy was a teenager, slinking around town committing petty robberies, something James didn’t know.

“Where was I when that happened?” he asked.

“Too self-involved to notice,” Brooke replied. “My brother teaches middle school in Lenox now. He’ll be at the funeral. Your dad totally turned his life around.”

“Really? He was completely absent from mine.”

James seemed angry and dangerous, but he wasn’t. He was falling apart. He went home with Brooke, who was divorced and had a little boy who was off spending the night at her mother’s place. James cried in her bed and told her that he was a monster who should have died a long time ago. He said things he shouldn’t have and made a fool of himself.

In the morning, he woke in the dark and took off before Brooke awoke. He’d left Cody at his mother’s house, but the arthritic dog had managed to jump out the window, as he used to in the old days, and was waiting for James in Brooke’s yard. James bent to pet his dog’s head.