Another slow nod.“Thank you for your help.I’m sorry to be a nuisance.”
“It’s my job, son.If this is the worsttrouble you give me, I’ll consider myself lucky.”Darren’s phonebeeped for the third time since he’d arrived and he smiledapologetically at Mark.“The father will take care of you now.Andyou’ve got my number.The same curfew rules apply here.Be in bynine o’clock at night.You’re expected to do chores around theplace and follow all the house rules—the father will explain allthat.And the other rules of your parole are still in effect too.You understand what I’m telling you?”
Cain nodded, his gaze still fixed at somepoint on the floor near Mark’s feet.It was the same look he’d wornin the courtroom when his sentence was read, Mark realized with astart.He’d been staring at the wall, then, but it was the sameabsent expression, as if the goings-on around him weren’t any ofhis concern.It had seemed like arrogance at the time, but now Markwondered.
“I’ll walk you out, Darren,” he said, and heforced himself to address Cain directly.“You can go through thereinto the common room, if you like.I think some of the guys arewatching TV.”
Cain moved as if he were only doing so inorder to be compliant, and Mark followed the parole officer outtoward the car.“Has he been tested?For drugs?Or, I don’t know,Asperger’s or something?Is his brain working normally?”
“He’ll take the standard drug tests as acondition of his parole, but I haven’t ordered any yet.No historyof drug abuse.And there’s no sign that he’s not neurotypical.Idon’t know him well, but the reports from the prison said he’squiet to start with and then warms up.Above average intelligence,but poor literacy skills, and didn’t finish high school until wegot him caught up on a few courses in prison.”Darren shook hishead.“Just one more kid screwed up by bad parenting, I expect.I’ll bet you a beer he’s got a history with Child ProtectiveServices, but I haven’t looked into it yet.”
“He’s not a kid anymore,” Mark said.
Darren shrugged.“Twenty-two.A lot ofproductive life ahead of him, if we can get him on the right path.A lot of taxpayer expense and misery if we can’t.”He delivered hisgoodbye hug and drove off, leaving Mark standing in the driveway,thinking about Darren’s parting words.
The cost of a criminal versus the benefit ofa rehabilitated citizen.It was the same prosaic argument Mark hadused so many times to justify his work at the halfway house, inapplications for grants, while requesting community support.He’dgenerally add a bit more, reminding people that judgment belongs tothe Lord.All humans are sinners, and all are dependent on theultimate forgiveness of God; in the face of His ultimate goodness,upright citizens require mercy just as surely as the most hardenedcriminal.Mark was pretty sure it was the more practical argumentsthat got him the most support.
It was different, though, faced withthiscriminal.The goal of the halfway house was toreintroduce offenders to society, to help them get on with theirlives.Mark didn’t want Cain to get on with his life.Jimmy wasdead.He’d never have the chance to have a family or build a careeror travel.Nothing.Why should Mark help Jimmy’s killer to do allthese things?
But there was a strange fascination growing,now that Mark had seen the man up close.He seemed so small.Notphysically, although he was certainly much lighter and shorter thanJimmy had been, but spiritually, as if he’d shrunk inside himselfsomehow.He was no threat, and Mark wanted to watch him.Maybe, alittle bit, Mark wanted to control him.His original jailers hadcoddled the man, giving him school and training, letting him go fartoo early.But he was in Mark’s keeping now.It was impossible toignore the hand of God in all this: Lucas Cain had been deliveredto Mark, and now Mark could decide what to do with him.
Nothing, to start with.There was no hurry.Mark would watch, and plan.He’d allow Cain the space to recoverfrom whatever temporary trauma seemed to be affecting him becausehe should be judged based on his true character, not the strangelycompliant automaton he was pretending to be.
Mark walked slowly back into the house.Hefound Cain in the living room, sitting in a chair faced toward thetelevision.He would have looked totally normal to someone whodidn’t realize that he was staring at a spot on the wall severalinches above the TV screen.
“Brandon,” Mark said to one of the other menin the room, “can you show Cain around and get him set up inTruvey’s old bed?Give him a copy of the house rules, walk himthrough the routine?”Mark usually did all that himself, using thetime as an opportunity to get to know the new resident, but hedidn’t want to get to know Cain, not that way.He wanted to be adistant observer, not an active participant.Besides, Brandon wasalways hungry for whatever power he could grab, and he’d beenpretty good lately.He deserved a bit of a reward.
“Let’s go, Cain,” Brandon said, springingeagerly to his feet.“No more fishing shows for you.”
Cain stood obediently and trailed afterBrandon.Mark watched them go.Cain’s presence was an opportunity,and it wasn’t one that Mark was going to waste.
ChapterNine
By Sunday afternoon it was clear that life atthe halfway house was going to be easy.All the same strategiesthat had served Lucas in prison worked just as well in this newenvironment.He did what he was told, kept his head down, and usedhis intimidating stare if anyone tried to mess with him.The restof the residents were in the same boat as he was, so theyunderstood about walking on eggshells to be sure his parole wasn’tviolated.A couple of them even seemed like they might understandthe other reasons for Lucas’s careful behavior, but he didn’t testthat possibility by actually speaking to them about it.The tiny,cautious hope that there was someone who was dealing with regretssimilar to his was a gift too valuable, and too fragile, to becarelessly risked.He’d rather cling to his unverified belief thantry to confirm it and have it destroyed instead.
So he stayed away from the other residentsexcept for mealtimes or communal chores, and he absolutely avoidedthe priest who ran the place.There was something creepy aboutFather Mark, always watching, like he was just waiting for Lucas tomess up.The staff was okay, as far as Lucas had seen, but theywere the ones in charge of making sure he followed all the rules,which made them too much like prison guards for him to want tospend time with them.
On Sunday afternoon, he was in the backyardtrying to clean up the small vegetable garden from its winterdebris.He didn’t really have any idea what he was doing, but he’dasked the staff member on duty if it was okay, and the guy hadshrugged a vague assent.Lucas was finding life a lot easier if hekept moving, kept working, so he’d grabbed a rake and a garden forkand started messing around.
The thin grey squirrel watching his workdidn’t seem impressed with him, though.It wasn’t clear whether itdidn’t like what Lucas was doing or just the fact that he existed,but it chattered and scolded from a branch just over Lucas’s head,and eventually scrabbled right down the trunk of the tree and madeit a few feet toward Lucas as if planning to attack.Lucas frozeand then tried to sound calm and relaxed and sane, despite the factthat he was speaking to a mysteriously angry squirrel.“I’m beingcareful, buddy.I don’t know what you’re mad about, but there’s nonests or anything in here.I’m watching out.”
The squirrel sat back on its winter-thinnedhaunches and really seemed to be listening.Lucas didn’t have awhole lot more to say, but at least the sound of his own voice wasmore pleasant than the squirrel’s raucous chattering.“It’s agarden.I think squirrels eat stuff from gardens, so you shouldn’tbe complaining.This is your future dining room, buddy.But there’sno flower bulbs, I don’t think.”Lucas had a vague childhood memoryof some neighborhood woman cussing out the squirrels for eating hertulip bulbs, so maybe this squirrel was looking for a similartreat.“You’re out of luck on that one.”
Lucas cautiously moved again, keeping one eyeon the animal while bending over to scoop a bundle of dried tomatovines into his arms.“You guys eat bird food, right?Sunflowerseeds?”It was crazy, but the little rodent’s ears really did seemto perk up at that.
“Don’t get all excited.I haven’t got any.”Lucas turned a little in order to deposit the vines on the compostpile.When he turned back, the squirrel was still staring at him.This was beginning to get creepy, but it was intriguing too.“Icould get some, maybe.Or peanuts?”An excited flick of thesquirrel’s tail suggested that Lucas was on the right track.“Idon’t have a lot of cash, but peanuts probably don’t cost too much,right?”He stepped cautiously forward and the squirrel twitched asif preparing to leave.Lucas was shocked to realize how much hedidn’t want that to happen.So he froze.“I’ll get some,” hepromised.“Seeds, or peanuts, or something.This is your backyard,right?If I’m visiting, I should bring a present.I get that.”
The squirrel seemed to be considering theveracity of his words.Finally, it flicked its tail in whatappeared to be a gesture of agreement, then whirled and scrabbledback up the tree.
Lucas was staring after the animal when heheard a gentle cough from behind him.He whirled, appalled thathe’d let someone get so close without noticing, and found thepriest waiting for his attention.“Oh.Hi.”Lucas didn’t know howmuch of the squirrel-conversation the priest had heard, and didn’tthink he really wanted to know.But the priest was looking at himstrangely, making him feel like he needed to explain something.Butfuck that.Lucas was pretty sure he wasn’t breaking any rules.Sohe found a spot on the wall somewhere behind the priest’s head andstared at it, waiting for whatever came next.
“I just took a phone call inside,” the priestfinally said.“I didn’t know where you were, so I took amessage.”
Lucas had only given the number to oneperson, a falsely casual message left on an answering machine thatmorning.Now he waited to hear the response to his initiative.
“Dave, from Gage Roofing.He said that theyweren’t going to have any hours for you this week.”
Lucas tried not to react.On Friday, Dave hadbeen complaining about how many projects he had going on.He’d saidhe needed ten more guys who worked like Lucas.This had nothing todo with there not being enough hours.
