Every street had a story, every building a memory. Those blessed with wonderful childhoods can drive the streets of their hometowns and happily roll back the years. The rest are pulled home by duty and leave as soon as possible. After Ray had been in Clanton for fifteen minutes he was anxious to get out.
The town had changed, but then it hadn't. On the highways leading in, the cheap metal buildings and mobile homes were gathering1 as tightly as possible next to the roads for maximum visibility. Ford2 County had no zoning whatsoever3. A landowner could build anything with no permit, no inspection4, no code, no notice to adjoining landowners, nothing. Only hog5 farms and nuclear reactors6 required approvals and paperwork. The result was a slash-and-build clutter7 that got uglier by the year.
But in the older sections, nearer the square, the town had not changed at all. The long shaded streets were as clean and neat as when Ray had roamed them on his bike. Most of the houses were still owned by people he knew, or if those folks had passed on the new owners kept the lawns clipped and the shutters8 painted. Only a few were being neglected. A handful had been abandoned.
This deep in Bible country, it was still an unwritten rule that little was done on Sundays except go to church, sit on porches, visit neighbors, rest and relax the way God intended.
It was cloudy, quite cool for May, and as he toured his old turf, killing9 time until the appointed hour, he tried to dwell on the good memories from Clanton. There was Dizzy Dean Park where he had played Little League for the Pirates, and there was the public pool he'd swum in every summer except 1969 when the city closed it rather than admit black children. There were the churches - Baptist, Methodist, and Presbyterian - facing each other at the intersection10 of Second and Elm like wary11 sentries12, their steeples competing for height. They were empty now, but in an hour or so the more faithful would gather for evening services.
The square was as lifeless as the streets leading to it. With eight thousand people, Clanton was just large enough to have attracted die discount stores that had wiped out so many small towns. But here the people had been faithful to their downtown merchants, and there wasn't a single empty or boarded-up building around the square - no small miracle. The retail13 shops were mixed in with the banks and law offices and cafes, all closed for the Sabbath.
He inched through the cemetery14 and surveyed the Atlee section in the old part, where the tombstones were grander. Some of his ancestors had built monuments for their dead. Ray had always assumed that the family money he'd never seen must have been buried in those graves. He parked and walked to his mother's grave, something he hadn't done in years. She was buried among the Atlees, at the far edge of the family plot because she had barely belonged.
Soon, in less than an hour, he would be sitting in the Judge's study, sipping15 bad instant tea and receiving instructions on exactly how his father would be laid to rest. Many orders were about to be given, many decrees and directions, because the Judge was a great man and cared deeply about how he was to be remembered.
Moving again, Ray passed the water tower he'd climbed twice, the second time with the police waiting below. He grimaced16 at his old high school, a place he'd never visited since he'd left it. Behind it was the football field where Forrest Atlee had romped17 over opponents and almost became famous before getting bounced off the team.
It was twenty minutes before five, Sunday, May 7. Time for the family meeting.
THERE WAS no sign of life at Maple18 Run. The front lawn had been cut within the past few days, and the Judge's old black Lincoln was parked in the rear, but other than those two pieces of evidence there was no sign that anyone had lived there for many years.
The front of the house was dominated by four large round columns under a portico19, and when Ray had lived there these columns were painted white. Now they were green with vines and ivy20. The wisteria was running wildly along the tops of the columns and onto the roof. Weeds choked everything - flower beds, shrubs21, walkways.
Memories hit hard, as they always did when he pulled slowly into the drive and shook his head at the condition of a once fine home. And there was always the same wave of guilt22. He should've stayed, should've gone in with the old man and founded the house of Atlee & Atlee, should've married a local girl and sired a half-dozen descendants who would live at Maple Run, where they would adore the Judge and make him happy in his old age.
He slammed his door as loudly as possible, hoping to alert anyone who might need to be alerted, but the noise fell softly on Maple Run. The house next door to the east was another relic23 occupied by a family of spinsters who'd been dying off for decades. It was also an antebellum but without the vines and weeds, and it was completely shadowed by five of the largest oak trees in Clanton
The front steps and the front porch had been swept recently. A broom was leaning near the door, which was open slightly. The Judge refused to lock the house, and since he also refused to use air conditioning he left windows and doors open around the clock.
Ray took a deep breath and pushed the door open until it hit the doorstop and made noise. He stepped inside and waited for the odor to hit, whatever it might be this time. For years the Judge kept an old cat, one with bad habits, and the house bore the results. But the cat was gone now, and the smell was not unpleasant at all. The air was warm and dusty and filled with the heavy scent24 of pipe tobacco.
"Anybody home?" he said, but not too loudly. No answer.
The foyer, like the rest of the house, was being used to store the boxes of ancient files and papers the Judge clung to as if they were important. They had been there since the county evicted25 him from the courthouse. Ray glanced to his right, to the dining room where nothing had changed in forty years, and he stepped around the corner to the hallway that was also cluttered26 with boxes. A few soft steps and he peeked27 into his father's study.
The Judge was napping on the sofa.
Ray backed away quickly and walked to the kitchen, where, surprisingly, there were no dirty dishes in the sink and the counters were clean. The kitchen was usually a mess, but not today. He found a diet soda28 in the refrigerator and sat at the table trying to decide whether to wake his father or to postpone29 the inevitable30. The old man was ill and needed his rest, so Ray sipped31 his drink and watched the clock above the stove move slowly toward 5 P.M.
Forrest would show up, he was certain. The meeting was too important to blow off. He'd never been on time in his life. He refused to wear a watch and claimed he never knew what day it was, and most folks believed him.
At exactly five, Ray decided32 he was tired of waiting. He had traveled a long way for this moment, and he wanted to take care of business. He walked into the study, noticed his father hadn't moved, and for a long minute or two was frozen there, not wanting to wake him, but at the same time feeling like a trespasser33.
The Judge wore the same black pants and the same white starched34 shirt he'd worn as long as Ray could remember. Navy suspenders, no tie, black socks, and black wing tips. He'd lost weight and his clothes swallowed him. His face was gaunt and pale, his hair thin and slicked back. His hands were crossed at his waist and were almost as white as the shirt.
Next to his hands, attached to his belt on the right side, was a small white plastic container. Ray took a step closer, a silent step, for a better look. It was a morphine pack.
Ray closed his eyes, then opened them and glanced around the room. The rolltop desk under General Forrest had not changed in his lifetime. The ancient Underwood typewriter still sat there, a pile of papers beside it. A few feet away was the large mahogany desk left behind by the Atlee who'd fought with Forrest.
Under the stern gaze of General Nathan Bedford Forrest, and standing35 there in the center of a room that was timeless, Ray began to realize that his father was not breathing. He comprehended this slowly. He coughed, and there was not the slightest response. Then he leaned down and touched the Judge's left wrist. There was no pulse.
Judge Reuben V Atlee was dead.
收听单词发音 |
1
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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4
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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hog
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| n.猪；馋嘴贪吃的人；vt.把…占为己有，独占 | |
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reactors
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| 起反应的人( reactor的名词复数 )； 反应装置； 原子炉； 核反应堆 | |
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7
clutter
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| n.零乱，杂乱；vt.弄乱，把…弄得杂乱 | |
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shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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intersection
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| n.交集，十字路口，交叉点；[计算机] 交集 | |
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wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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sentries
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| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
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retail
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| v./n.零售；adv.以零售价格 | |
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14
cemetery
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| n.坟墓，墓地，坟场 | |
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15
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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16
grimaced
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| v.扮鬼相，做鬼脸( grimace的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17
romped
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| v.嬉笑玩闹( romp的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指在赛跑或竞选等中）轻易获胜 | |
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18
maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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19
portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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20
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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21
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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22
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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23
relic
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| n.神圣的遗物，遗迹，纪念物 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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25
evicted
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| v.（依法从房屋里或土地上）驱逐，赶出( evict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26
cluttered
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| v.杂物，零乱的东西零乱vt.( clutter的过去式和过去分词 )；乱糟糟地堆满，把…弄得很乱；（以…） 塞满… | |
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27
peeked
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| v.很快地看( peek的过去式和过去分词 )；偷看；窥视；微露出 | |
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28
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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29
postpone
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| v.延期，推迟 | |
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30
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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31
sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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32
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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33
trespasser
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| n.侵犯者；违反者 | |
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34
starched
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| adj.浆硬的，硬挺的，拘泥刻板的v.把（衣服、床单等）浆一浆( starch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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