Free Twilight by Kristen Heitzmann Page A

sagged. Some things had no explanation. He could tell Cal God’s ways were above man’s, His wisdom supreme. He could tell him somewhere in the scheme of things even horrors had their place. But there was a hand to his lips. Cal wasn’t ready to hear it.
    “Hang tough, bro. Don’t give in.”
    Cal nodded slowly. “Can you sit for a while?”
    “I can sit all night.” And that’s what he’d do if it kept Cal out of the bottle, or the pills, or whatever he might find to take away the memories.
    Gradually the shaking stopped, and Cal looked bone weary. He put his head down on the table and closed his eyes. God may not have the victory yet, but between them they’d won this skirmish. Reggie stood, towering over Cal’s hunched form. With the tenderness of a father, he helped Cal to his feet and got him into bed.
    “You made it, Cal. One more time.”
    Cal shook his head, then sank into the pillows. “Thanks, Reg.”
    Reggie looked at him lying there. People didn’t understand the courage it took for an addict to stay clean. Everyone had bad days. But a bad day to a drunk could be the start of the slide. Reggie looked up and closed his eyes. No dreams, tonight, Lord. Guard his mind and his soul .
    As soundlessly as possible in that old house, Reggie let himself out. If Suanne was waiting up, he’d explain. But chances were, she’d gone to sleep hours ago. Funny, but Reggie hardly felt tired at all.

    Two days later, Cal stood behind Ray as he lay on the red vinyl bench in the shed. With three hundred and ten pounds of weight, counting the bar, across his chest, eyes bulging and his face aflame, Ray puffed out his cheeks and pushed it up. Cal hoped Ray wouldn’t drop it. The bar held one hundred and twenty pounds more than Cal’s total body weight, and his biceps already pulsed from the curls. The bar dipped, and again Ray pushed it up before Cal grabbed and helped him sink it into the brackets.
    “Whew, Ray. You’re a better man than I.”
    “Your turn.” Ray sat up, his perspiration pungent as an onion patch.
    “I think I’ll pass.”
    “Come on. I’ll make it lighter.”
    “By fifty pounds.”
    “Forty.”
    “Okay, forty. But you be ready.”
    Ray grinned. There was something in Ray’s grin that was less than convincing. Cal took his place, smelling Ray as he did. Ray adjusted the weights, and Cal gathered himself, then eased the bar down to rest on his pectorals and shifted his hands. “How many reps?”
    “Ten.”
    “Five.”
    Ray paused, probably not sure how to divide the difference to keep arguing, and Cal pushed the bar up, expelling his breath as he did. It had not been that long since he’d worked out with the guys on the line. Though he never developed much bulk, he did possess a natural strength and musculature, inherited from his dad.
    He managed a set of ten before he hooked the bar and rolled off the bench. His left shoulder joint popped, and he rotated it, releasing the strain. The blood vessels in his arms stood up like snakes. It was an ugly business.
    Ray slipped a weight off the ends. “Now shoulder press.”
    “No thanks.”
    “You chicken?”
    “No. Me tired.” Cal shook his arms to loosen the muscles. “Listen, it’s getting hard to breathe in here. You want to walk with me?”
    Ray’s face sagged. “It’s dark.”
    “So?”
    Ray stood sullenly. “I don’t like the woods at night.”
    “Suit yourself.” Cal loved the woods at night. Especially the time just between the day’s glory and the splendor of the starlit night. That mysterious unformed twilight. When Sadie was around they had taken many twilight walks and romped long after dark under the stars through rain, snow, or what have you. Even when her hips had grown so stiff that he had to carry her up the stairs, she had never missed a walk in the woods.
    The trees were mostly bare against the low November sky, their long, arthritic fingers clashing together in the chill wind. But the underbrush was still