Fear and the Family

Cliff Barger stood in the principal’s office, acutely aware that he stunk. The call to immediately retrieve his youngest, Sadie, from school came when he was hoisting the engine block out of a Komatsu D375A-3 Dozer. From the elbows down, he was diesel, grease, and sweat.

He looked at Mrs. Depauli, in her baby-blue blazer and lavender blouse, maintaining an aura of serenity that matched the floral bouquet gently wafting through the room from the egg-shaped mister on a small side table. With each fragrant hiss, his discomfort increased.

“As I was explaining, Mr. Barger,” Mrs. Depauli continued, “a minor skirmish is not uncommon and usually quickly resolved within the classroom, but when a child requires medical attention, then obviously, parents are notified—”

“—An ambulance driving onto the playground was overdoing it, wouldn’t you say? Nobody was about to die.”

“Mr. Barger, the boy lost several teeth. The amount of blood was—”

“—normal, Ma’am. The body makes a fine mess when a piece breaks off.”

“But surely you understand my position, my responsibility?”

“What I understand is that my daughter has been bullied, which you are well aware of, yet somehow haven’t managed to put a stop to. Sadie had had enough, and it was dumb luck, or karma, that the kid caught the monkey bars in the face.”

“Mr. Barger, while that may be true, it is irrelevant. This school has a zero-tolerance policy on violence.”

“But not for bullying; that’s more of a sliding scale, is it?” Cliff changed his mind about his appearance. He hoped her office smelled of his stench for a week. “How long? How long does Sadie need to stay home for? You know she doesn’t have a mother, and I work.”

“A week minimum,” she answered, looking down at her hands, shifting papers into a folder. “That could change should the injured child’s parents wish to escalate matters.”

“Escalate?” Cliff said, moving toward the office door. His daughter was waiting nervously in a yellow plastic chair on the other side. “What are you all afraid of? That the next time some smartass kid lips off about the “Hillbilly Bargers,” she’d break the kid’s neck?” Cliff put a hand on the doorknob and looked back at the principal. “Yeah, we know what you call us. You punish her if you need to, but I won’t. Call me when Sadie’s allowed back.”

Sadie sat looking out the window as her father drove out of town. She knew he didn’t like talking until they left the highway south of Wallinger and made the turn onto the winding road toward the lake and their home. She knew that town made him angry. She didn’t know why her dad hated town so much, only that he did. She would wait to apologize until she saw more trees than houses. The forest made him calm. When he was calm, her dad was easy to talk to.

“I don’t know why you’re so hardheaded, Sades. I thought I taught you better than that.”

Sadie scootched up in her seat, craning her neck to look out the truck window behind her dad; he wasn’t usually the one to break a silent ride. Slivers of blue flashed through the trees as the road turned. It was the river. He always forgot why he was mad when the river was nearby.

Later, she would wonder why she had said it. Maybe it was water or the woods; she always felt like she wasn’t entirely herself, and quickly got lost in their magic and wonder, where her mind played tricks. She sometimes wondered if her mother was out there, watching from behind the bushes, or hiding up in a hole in a tree like the great owls. Later, she would hear her words and wonder how she could have said them. “Maybe Momma taught me. Was Momma hardheaded, Dad?”

The truck jerked. She hadn’t been ready. Her dad always called, “deer,” or “elk,” or “bear” if one was on the road, but he hadn’t said anything, and the sudden jolt knocked her head against the window.

“Why did you hurt that boy today, Sades?”

The truck returned to running smoothly. Sadie rubbed two fingers along the corner of her head. “I didn’t hurt him. He got hurt when he fell.”

Cliff exhaled. “Why did the boy fall?”

Sadie sighed, “Because I pushed him.”

“Why did you push him?”

Sadie folded her arms, “Because he made me cross.”

“Sades, I’ve got patience as deep as the valley, but you’re going to test that if you keep with the short answers. Tell me everything.”

Cliff listened as his daughter recounted pretty much the same bullying story he’d heard from her older sister, Taylor and older brother, Will. Those goddamn townies had nothing better to do than make up stories when they didn’t know all of one. Jesper, the now-broken-toothed-kid, was taunting Sadie about the one thing that stung them all—the kids' missing mother and his absent wife—gone without an explanation or a trail. Rumours were rampant that she’d come to a foul end at his hands.

He’d long-forgiven Ellianna for splitting off, but he couldn’t forgive her for leaving the kids without a word to let them know that she was still out there. Somewhere. It’s tough to defend something you haven’t done, especially with no proof to support the opposite.

“Sades, I want you to know that I’m not upset with you. Not in any way. Now I want you to think hard; look real deep inside yourself and tell me why you were so mad because of what that boy said.” He glanced in the rearview mirror and caught Sadie’s bright blue eyes shimmering beneath welling tears. “Take your time. The truth will come, and when you hear it, say it.”

Will and Taylor had listened to him and learned the same lesson; now it was Sadie’s turn. He couldn’t tell Sadie the answer; she had to search it out on her own, but it was his job to point her in the right direction. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled; Sadie gazed out the window, glossy-eyed. She while touched each fingertip to her thumb. It was her habit when puzzling something out. “I was mad cuz I didn’t like what he said. And I didn’t like what he said, cuz it made me scared.”

“That’s my girl. Now you’ve got the tiger by the tail.” The truth, which Cliff knew was coming next, remained something he could not reconcile, but one that struck each of his children as sure as puberty. If they could face it, so could he, “Why does it make you afraid, Sades?”

“We’re home!” she said, sitting up straight with her nose nearly against the window.

Cliff slowed the truck and stopped it once they were past the gate and cattle guard. “I know the answer, Sades. Taylor felt the same way, and she told me. Will, too. Tell your dad now; it’ll be okay, you’ll see.” He turned back with a hand on the passenger seat headrest. A moment later, he got the look; Sadie’s dead-into-your-soul, big blue-eyed stare.

“I get afraid because what if it were true? What if Momma didn’t run away? What if something bad happened and you buried her here in the woods someplace and that’s why we don’t live in town cuz if you sold this place, then new people would come and bring the police, and they’d find her.”

Cliff made his eyes open wide and blew a long exhale, “Whew! That was big, right? You got it all out, kiddo. That’s good.”

Sadie nodded, her gaze fixed on her toes.

“There is one right thing about those awful things the townsfolk say: your mother is gone.” It was his turn to meet his daughter’s eyes. Cliff reached back and gently raised her chin. “But the rest of it is gossip and bullshit. I didn’t hurt your momma, and nothing terrible happened here. She’s not buried out here, Sades. Your momma is out there where she wants to be. I can’t explain it to myself or you, but for whatever reason, that place isn’t with us. I’m sorry I can’t give you any more than that, because that’s all I know.”

Cliff patted her on the knee and got her smile, small but true, in return. “Go on, git out and run the dog down to the river. You tell him everything that scares you. He’ll listen and keep it. When you’re ready, you come back up to the house, and supper will be ready; then you’ll understand the rest.”

“How could any momma not want to be with her kids?” Sadie said in a sad, little voice.

“The heart has its reasons, which reason knows nothing of,” Cliff answered.

Sadie’s brow furrowed.

“You’ll figure that one out one day, too,” he said, understanding his daughter’s perplexed expression. “But not today. Today, you’re a kid. Now go out and run about like one.”

In a heartbeat, the door opened, and she was gone. He watched Sadie gallop through the trees toward the barn. Town might be more convenient for the kids, but it couldn’t offer them what this land could.

He leaned back in his chair at the dinner table and smirked as the kids cleared their plates and took them to the dishwasher. It amused him that out of the things he could serve them, nothing seemed to satisfy more than his meatloaf and mashed potatoes; clean plates every time.

Rain arrived by the tinny-taps on the roof, a smattering of splats on the broad oak leaves and wet whispers through pine boughs. The pale blue curtains Taylor had sewn for the kitchen window fluttered, making room for the scent of the dampening earth to refresh the house.

Sadie rushed to the porch door. “Couldn’t we bring him in the house?” she asked, looking to their velvet-eared black lab lying on his belly in front of the barn.

“He’s not tied. If he wanted to come, he would, Sades, but he knows his place and the rule.” Cliff answered.

Taylor went to her sister and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I heard you had a big talk with him. That’s good, sis. Maybe now you can understand why we don’t let Fear come into the house.”

The wooden chair creaked as Cliff leaned forward, waiting and watching.

It was Will’s turn, and it pleased Cliff how much pride the boy took in being the big brother. He joined his sisters at the door.

“That’s why Dad named him Fear, Sades. It’s not scary when you know where it is. You told him all the things that scare you, and he keeps them.”

“I treat it like a game.” It was Taylor now. She had her arm around her little sister, tucking Sadie into her side. “Kinda like fetch,” she explained. “I’ll say, ‘Stay Fear!’ or if I’m feeling more worried, I might shout, ‘Go Fear!’ and toss a ball or stick so he’ll take my worries further away.”

“But we don’t let Fear in the house,” Will said.

“We keep Fear where it belongs,” Taylor added, “Outside.”

“But why? He’s only a dog. Isn’t Fear a good dog?” Sadie asked.

Cliff pushed the chair away and went to his children. “Sades,” he asked, his voice gentle and kind, “How did you feel after you told Fear of everything that scared you?”

All three children stayed where they were, looking at the dog. Sadie’s fingers danced. “I felt…brave.”

“That’s what makes Fear a good dog. You let him take those things, and he gives you courage in return. But if we let Fear inside, he’d think it’s where he belonged. He’d be right in front of you all the time. Following you around, wanting more. Fear is only good to us if we keep it in its place. Fear has to know who’s boss.”

The rain was light, and they watched as Fear licked his forelegs and paws. Once he seemed satisfied with his shower, he rose, turned, walked into the barn and disappeared into the shadows.

“Well, you two,” Cliff said, laying his hands on Taylor and Will’s shoulders, “Guess there’s homework waiting. As for you, young lady,” he said, smiling at Sadie, “If the school won’t have you, then I won’t have you doing schoolwork.”

Sadie tilted a beaming smile at her father. “Dad?” she asked, suddenly puzzled, “What am I gonna do until they let me back?”

Cliff tussled her thick, brown hair, “Guess you’ll have to come to work with me.”

The older kids moaned and walked away.

“Some suspension!” Will complained.

“And the guys will get you fries and ice cream from the food truck every day!” Taylor whined.

Sadie twined her fingers in her father's, “Can I drive the Dozer?” she asked excitedly.

Cliff let out an exaggerated sigh, “Only if you help me fix it.”