Blood Fugue Read Online Free Page B

where he spent his childhood. He has left us quite a task.’
    ‘He sure has,’ said Kerrigan. ‘But why wait all this time?’
    Mr. Jimenez looked embarrassed.
    ‘It is superstition. He believed that any descendents who touched his remains within a generation would be cursed.’
    Kerrigan had never heard of such an elaborate will, or such long lasting paranoia.
    ‘Sounds like he was a little — eccentric,’ he ventured.
    ‘There is no doubt of that, Mr Kerrigan.’
    ‘How will you transport his — remains?’
    ‘Let us first see if we can find them.’
    Another silence bunched up in the small kitchen. Kerrigan had stopped stroking Buster. The cat jumped up onto the table again and then into Carla’s lap. She accepted his advance with more confidence this time and began to stroke him in the same way Kerrigan had.
    Mr. Jimenez placed his mug down on the map.
    ‘What are those?’ he asked.
    He nodded his head towards a mobile that swung idly over the kitchen sink. Each piece was hand crafted from polished pine and withy strands to create a simple X shape within a circle. The handiwork was rough and ready.
    Kerrigan cleared his throat.
    ‘Those are, uh — binders.’
    ‘What are binders?’ asked Mr. Jimenez.
    ‘That’s a good question.’ He groped for an answer and found, as always, that it was difficult to explain. ‘They — well — I always used to notice the shape in the stained glass windows of our church when I was a kid. Round windows with even-armed crosses in them. I’d kind of stare at them and daydream when I was meant to be singing or listening to the preacher. I started carving them out of fallen branches and reeds from the edge of the river. I make a couple of new ones every day. I’ve got a whole drawer full.’
    He laughed, embarrassed by the admission.
    ‘Why do you call them binders?’ asked Maria.
    ‘I don’t know, I just do. Probably it was the name I made up for them when I was a boy.’
    ‘I like them,’ said Carla.
    ‘Me too,’ said Luis.
    The kids looked fascinated. José frowned.
    ‘You fashion these from pine, no?’
    ‘That’s right,’ said Kerrigan.
    ‘Why does the wood look so old?’
    Kerrigan’s eyes defocused for a moment. He blinked.
    ‘Uh, that’s typical of Idaho pine. The sap is very dark.’
    Maria wore a look of mild concern.
    ‘They are not occult, are they?’ she asked.
    ‘I don’t think so. I mean, the idea came from the church, so . . .’ Kerrigan shrugged his shoulders. ‘I give them to everyone who stops to ask for directions.’
    What credibility this might give them, he didn’t know.
    ‘How much do you charge?’ asked Mr. Jimenez.
    ‘Nothing. I give them away.’
    ‘But why?’
    ‘To make the journey through the forest special.’
    Out of nowhere, that was as close to the truth as he had ever come. He watched the binders turning and turning on their nylon threads and began to drift the way he always had when looking at them. An X within a circle, a nought and a cross, a kiss and a hug. Four slices of a pie. Simple. Beautiful—
    ‘Weird,’ said Luis.
    ‘Cool,’ said his sister.
    ‘Can we have one?’ they both asked.
    ‘You can all have one. Like I said, I give them to everyone that passes this way.’
    He stood up to fetch a few from the kitchen cupboard.
    ‘Thank you, Mr. Kerrigan,’ said Maria, ‘but I don’t think the children should have such things.’
    ‘They’re for all of you to have, not just the kids.’
    Maria was adamant.
    ‘We do not want them.’
    Mr. Jimenez placed a hand on his wife’s wrist.
    ‘I do not see any harm in it. Mr. Kerrigan is a good man. He has tried only to help us.’
    Kerrigan watched their personal politics play out. Maria was going to give in without a word being spoken. That didn’t mean she was happy about it, of course.
    ‘If it is no trouble,’ said Mr. Jimenez, ‘we would gladly accept your gift. It will give us a way of remembering this journey that we have made