Part 40 (1/2)
Carter looks at Hattie, who is already beginning to wish they'd taken a different tack. Because Everett, she can see, is heating up.
”It ain't right, Ginny getting off.” Everett looms over them, his voice even and low. ”It ain't right.”
”No,” says Carter, looking rueful. ”It ain't, as you say. But there's no law to nail her with, sadly.”
”Why the h.e.l.l not? What's the point of law if people like Ginny are going to get the h.e.l.l off?”
”You want the law to be just,” says Carter. ”But, as my ex-wife used to say, the law doesn't make things just. It just makes things better.”
”Better than what?”
”Better than if we had no law. Better than if we had corruption, which is what they have in many parts of the world, unfortunately.”
”You're helping her,” says Everett, glaring. ”You're helping her get off.”
”That might be true,” says Hattie, after a moment. ”We might be helping her. But we're not trying to help her.”
Everett stops.
”Any help she gets is inadvertent. We're just trying to protect Sophy and get you back on your feet, if that's possible. Especially as the situation was complicated.” She plunges on. ”Especially as a lot of people who could've stepped in, failed to.” She pauses.
But if ever Everett could have heard this, he can't hear it now.
”Ain't I on my feet?” he says. ”Or is this someone else with my same boots?”
The window claps shut.
”No, no,” says Hattie. ”Of course you're on your feet.”
Smoke spills from the stove. Hattie reaches to prop the window back open with the broken-off stick Everett's been using-part of a paint stir stick, actually, with some white paint still on it-as Everett starts to pace again.
”I don't need your help unless it's to burn Ginny up.” The whole hut shakes as Everett starts to pace again.
”Perhaps you should become a Buddhist,” says Carter.
Hattie kicks him.
”That some kind of a joke?” asks Everett-swaying himself, now, like the hut.
”Actually, no. Actually my ex-wife felt much the way you did and really did become a Buddhist after a while. Before that she was a judge.” Carter stares at the black stove as if at an apparition-Meredith in her robes. ”She was mad.”
”Sick of the world,” guesses Everett. ”Sick of a world where people like Ginny get off.”
”Precisely.”
”She dump you?” asks Everett, stopping.
”She did.” Carter looks thoughtful.
”Didn't you just want to kill her?”
”I suppose one part of my brain did, yes,” says Carter. ”But other parts, happily, thought better of that plan.”
”Yeah, well, I just want to kill her.” Everett paces.
”Yeah, well, don't.” Carter gives Everett an El Honcho look, and for a moment Everett seems to heed him. ”Let us help you instead,” Carter goes on. ”So the world's unjust. You can still get some projects going.”
”Don't get hung up, you're saying.”
”Precisely.”
”I gave her my life.”
”That was generous of you, but perhaps it's time to take it back,” says Carter, drily.
Hattie kicks him again.
”Take it back!” Everett laughs. ”All them years.” He shakes his head. ”Maybe you have some way of getting them back, now, being a professor. But the rest of us've got to just kiss 'em good-bye, see. Sayonara. Good-bye.”
Hattie looks at him. ” 'Thirty-seven Years Wasted, You Could Say My Whole Life,' ” she quotes.
”You got it.” Everett smiles.
”Actually,” Carter starts, but stops when Hattie puts a hand over his mouth. ”You loved her,” he says instead, unmuzzling himself.
”Jacka.s.s that I was.”
”You loved her,” Carter says again. And slowly, after a moment: ”You gave her your life.”
”Wasn't such a great plan, to be frank.” Everett yawns. ”You probably would've thought better of that plan.”
”Probably,” agrees Carter.
Everett s.h.i.+fts slightly. ”I loved her but, well, now I just want her burned to a crisp, see.” He stretches a little. ”Now I'm aiming to send her right to h.e.l.l.” He hesitates, then wedges himself back into the chair.
”Everett, we want to help.” Hattie sits forward.
”That's kind of you, Hattie. Generous. I always said you were generous.”
”We're just trying to help you reach the tacos, if you know what I mean. Pay you back a little for all that snow shoveling you did.”
”I can reach what I need to just fine.”
”You mean, you don't want help,” says Carter.
”Guess I've taken all the help I want to in this life. Guess I don't need any more, no. No thanks.”
”You'd rather have your pride. Is that it?” asks Hattie.
”My pa lived his whole life with no pride so's his son could have some,” says Everett.