just follow the cat

Chapter 6: never jam today

10:21AM CST, January 28th

Lake Road at Cooper's Hill, Leasburg, Missouri

("Jam tomorrow and jam yesterday - but never jam today.")

– Lewis Carroll: Through the Looking Glass

Nobody wakes up on a winter morning and wonders if the day ahead will be unlike any that came before it. Winter days are set in front of us so we learn to tolerate the cold and the darkness. When you open your eyes on a winter morning, it's impossible to imagine that the hours in front of you might be different.

Martin Huntington took one step onto his back porch and was greeted with a shock of cold that felt like getting caught in every lie he had ever gotten away with. Immediately, he turned around and went back inside. "I'll go out later," he said to his wife. "And the wood pile's covered with snow right now, so really..."

Martin's voice trailed off. But when he saw his wife scowling at him, his called over his shoulder to his son. "Stay away from that old well, Earl." As the door shut behind him, Martin added, "It isn't safe out there."

From the tone of his father's voice, Earl knew that those words of caution weren't important. Not really. Not when he had finally been released from indoor confinement. Free at last, he was determined to enjoy his independence for as long as it lasted. Unfortunately, he was confined in another way. His mother had bundled him in so many layers that he looked like one section of a 3-part snowman searching for the rest of his body.

From his kitchen window at the top of the hill, Avery Cooper looked down at the boy and shook his head in irritation. "Look at him. He's a goddamn snowman. A boy can't have fun outdoors if he's wrapped up like an idiot."

In addition to his brown overcoat, Earl wore a hat that had flaps and a brown scarf wrapped tightly around his neck with only the tassels flying freely. To Avery, they looked like loose strands of hair. Or worse yet, apron strings.

The old man sat down at his table and scooted his chair closer to the window. Since Earl Huntington was the most entertaining and mischievous creature in all of Leasburg, Avery knew that the boy couldn't be trapped forever by motherly concern. The old man propped his elbows on the windowsill and leaned toward the glass. "Gimme some sweet tea, little boy. Just a sip. That's all. Just a sip."

Soon enough, Earl was shedding his mother's excessive concern – one layer at a time. First, Earl lost his heavy brown overcoat and then his puffy brown mittens. Despite the fact that his mother had made him wear gloves inside the mittens as well as several shirts beneath the heavy outer layer, Earl's limbs were now free enough to pursue most anything that looked like fun.

Soon, the ratio of mischief to minutes was exceptional. Earl crawled over the frozen earth, snapped branches, flapped his arms to scare some birds, and tossed powdery snowballs at a squirrel's nest well above the spreading arms of a beech tree. But the snowballs were too dry to hold together and they exploded in a shower of rainbows before they struck anything solid. Still full of energy, Earl even kicked up some loose dirt where none seemed to exist.

Earl was truly an amazing child. And fearless, too. As fearless as those explorers who sailed to the edge of the Earth knowing that the abyss could sneak up on them at any time.

Earl began frantically pushing the powdery snow across the ground because (moments before) he convinced himself that he saw something wriggling through the snow. It had to be a snake. He was sure of it. And the more he hunted; the more details he thought he could remember. At first, it was simply a small black snake. Then it was a black snake with copper diamonds down its back. Then he imagined it was really two snakes. As he pushed aside more snow, he became utterly convinced that he had seen two copper-colored snakes. With fangs!

Avery pressed his nose against the window and (with each pile of snow that Earl pushed aside) he tapped his spoon on the inside of a jar of strawberry jam. "I knew you had it in you, young man. The allure of mischief is just too strong for the wicked." Laughing aloud, he added, "We both know that, now don't we, boy?"

As Avery tapped on the jar of strawberry jam, he made a wager on Earl. Seeing all the untouched snow covering the Huntington's yard, the old man wondered if Earl would soon exhaust all the mischief he could find in his own yard. He looked at the clock on the wall and set a deadline.

"Young man," he said, "in five minutes, as sure as I know anything, you'll hop the fence and start mucking up the Prindle's yard." Then Avery scooped a small mountain of jam on the back of his spoon.

Like most of Avery's wagers, this was a small one. The reward, if he was right, was a half teaspoon of strawberry jam. The payment for a loss was no jam at all.

Time passed. Two minutes went to three went to five went to seven. Earl ran about the yard kicking snow and using tree branches like they were misshapen brooms. He whisked them about like they might magically uncover all the dirt beneath the snow and magically make it spring again. Then he also flew like an airplane, banking near the fence, then further away, and then gliding his hands on top of the fence for a while. Though he came close to the old wooden fence, he never hopped over it and never touched it. Not even once. After ten minutes, Avery finally set the jar of strawberry jam down on his kitchen table. He said, "Well, I guess it's jam tomorrow and jam yesterday – but never jam today."

Then he added, "You're a disappointment, young man. I expected so much more from you."

Avery pressed his forehead against the glass. The cold of the windowpane was enough to summon memories of winters when he was a child. But Avery's boyhood days were so far behind him that every story entering his mind began with the words, "I would have..."

I would have played harder.

I would have played longer.

I would have gotten into trouble that no child could ever escape.

The winters of his childhood were always colder and lasted longer. Every snowball he packed was firm and when they were thrown, they never missed their mark. These weren't lies, you know. They were just padding to soften the impact of growing old alone. It's the sort of thing that happens to everyone who is lucky enough to outlive their friends. Avery, you see, was fighting the final battle of old age – the one where we think we still have a chance to turn our life around and make something of ourselves before we die. On this Wednesday, hope was still a nose ahead of despair.

Avery let his eyes scan the world at the bottom of Cooper's Hill. He looked at things right and left and left and right, but there was nothing worth seeing.

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