Horton Gillenwater
Chapter 1 of "The Heart Of The Earth" (this selection originally published in Loose Change Magazine)
Folks in Canaan Gap hadn’t seen sunshine in weeks when the first winter’s snow began falling on New Year’s Eve morning. Gray sky and bare trees towered on the ridges above the cold, muddy streets. Evergreens were sparse in the isolated valley so the decrepit buildings in town and run-down trailers in the hollows lay exposed. The dreary season gave the Gap the look of a naked corpse.
The first few flakes swirled almost invisible in the morning gloom, but before long the frozen air filled with shining white. Despite the icy roads, the sputter of Horton Gillenwater’s old pick up could be heard entering the clinic parking lot.
The nurse knocked at the door of Dr. Greene’s office, “Mr. Gillenwater is here.”
Horton’s physician sipped coffee at his desk as he watched the snowflakes cover the bushes behind the clinic. It was good that the snow caused so many canceled appointments; Horton deserved more than fifteen minutes for this.
The retired mine foreman stooped when he walked, but he still stood well above six feet. Nearly nine decades of scars, sun, and suffering hadn’t robbed his face of its fierce handsomeness. The chart listed Horton’s ethnicity as Melungeon. Five years earlier Dr. Greene had never heard this word. “Dark folks,” a nurse had informed him, “I think they got Indian blood in ‘um.” Horton was making his way toward an open exam room when the doctor met him, “Why don’t we sit in my office?”
Dr. Greene laid the chart on the desk as Horton lowered himself into a chair with his cane. Five years ago, Horton had been the first person to befriend the young doctor arrived in Canaan Gap. The old man had a warmth toward outsiders rare in this isolated corner of Virginia, but once Horton Gillenwater welcomed you the whole of Appalachia was yours.
“I never got no good news when we’ve talked in here,” Horton smiled. “Go ahead, Doc. It’s alright.”
“Your oncologist sent the results of your scan…” There wasn’t an easy way to say it, especially to Horton. “The masses in the lungs and the liver are larger than before.”
“I guess this means more chemo?”
“Well, no. Horton...” Dr. Greene tugged at his beard with his fingers as he met Horton’s gaze, “This means the cancer is going to win. More chemotherapy wouldn’t make any difference.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry.”
Horton took a slow, deliberate breath, “Ain’t nothing to be sorry about, Doc. You done your best. How long I got left?”
“Maybe three or four months.”
“Oh? Wish I had more time to set things straight.” Then Horton smiled, “I reckon everybody wants more time, don’t they?”
“Yes, they do.”
“Doc, I know you ain’t hardly been here long at all,” Dr. Greene had been in the Gap almost five years, but a half-decade was nothing to a man staring down eternity, “but with you knowin’ everything about me, I feel almost like you’re kin…”
“Thank you Horton,” said Greene. Horton’s affection for him wouldn’t make the burden of overseeing his death any easier.
“Do you mind watching out for my boys and Colleen when I’m gone? You know I ain’t always been the best for them.” The old man wasn’t even looking at the doctor anymore; he was looking past him through the window into the empty trees and the falling snow.
Greene recognized the expression. Horton saw the world going on without him. How can anyone really believe in a world without himself? the doctor thought. Who has ever seen such a place?
The doctor knew too well that every person eventually recedes, leaving nothing but a lifeless shell. Dr Greene had an intimacy with death—a knowledge he never discussed. Peaceful or violent, the result was always the same: a vacancy that would never be refilled. Every heart eventually stops, even Horton’s surging heart which folks in Canaan Gap believed to be as constant as the mountains themselves.
“Of course I’ll watch out for your family, Horton.”
“Thanks for taking time for me, Doc,” Horton rose to his full height, a good half-foot above Dr. Greene, and extended his hand. “You’re about as fine a doc as a man in my fix could hope for.”
Greene wished he were as good a physician as his friend Horton believed him to be. “Thank you, Horton.” Greene took Horton’s massive hand.
“I know you got other patients to look out for, but could you be with me when I go?”
“I’ll do my best, Horton.” He embraced old Horton’s broad chest. “I would be honored to be with you.”
“Don’t you get soft on me now, Doc,” Horton laughed as his young doctor released him. “I ain’t the first man to die in this world. We lost men in the mine that weren’t much more ‘an boys. The Lord done blessed me, and I got Elsie waitin’ for me over yonder. Eighty-six years is more than I deserve. You know that more than anyone, Doc.” Horton had used his young doctor as his confessor, and when Dr. Greene told Horton about the tumor hidden in his abdomen Horton told the doctor a secret he’d never told another soul—the one secret that could make Horton’s massive hands tremble and his resonant voice crack like a boy’s. The old miner probably took his physician for the closest thing to a holy man this run-down town had to offer.
Horton looked past his doctor out the window. “Four months, huh? I sure would have enjoyed another summer. Looks like we gonna have a couple inches stick out there.”
“Yeah.” Doctor Greene had forgotten the snow. “Should I call Colleen or one of the boys to pick you up?”
“When my sister and I was little we used to sled in the holler on days like this. Today is the last day of 2004 and I got myself a beautiful morning. I think I’ll go for a walk in the snow.”
Doctor Greene stood beside the window and watched Horton’s stooped frame shuffle through the thickening snow on the sidewalk. The old man turned and waved at the window of Greene’s office. Horton’s skin did not pale in the winter, but held its resilient, bronze hue. His deep-set eyes shone with just the hint of tears.
Greene felt only enough strength to nod in reply to Horton’s salute. A man’s life is like a wave that crashes against the shore and suddenly recedes, leaving no trace of its wild energy. Horton Gillenwater was rapidly receding and would soon be gone.
Horton placed his cane against the stop sign at the corner of Main Street, removed his gloves, and tried to catch the wet snowflakes in his bare hands. Still weak from months of chemotherapy, Horton stumbled, and were it not for the sign would have fallen. Holding onto the post the old man threw back his head with a laugh and opened his mouth, extending his tongue like a child to catch flakes.
Not many people laugh at death. Horton’s exuberance made the doctor’s heart ache. Greene thought of himself and his own life—the arching wave of his loves and fears that would invariably recede as well. In that moment Greene loved Horton more than even his own wife and child. “I’ll be there Horton,” he sighed under his breath.
He watched long after Horton had crossed Canaan Square and disappeared in the thick flurry on his way toward town. Greene found himself jealous of Horton’s peace.
As far as Greene could tell, the force of Horton’s affection was the last thing holding this dilapidated mining community together, and Greene worried about his promise to watch out for Horton’s family. The other Gillenwaters would not do well without him. Trying to envision the Gap without Horton, the doctor could only imagine cruelty and desolation.
Dr. Greene had planned to stay up that night to ring in the New Year, but instead he went to bed early. All night long the snow descended on the valley like the grace of God. The sun returned on the first day of the New Year, and Canaan Gap shone with a clean and perfect whiteness.
Folks in Canaan Gap hadn’t seen sunshine in weeks when the first winter’s snow began falling on New Year’s Eve morning. Gray sky and bare trees towered on the ridges above the cold, muddy streets. Evergreens were sparse in the isolated valley so the decrepit buildings in town and run-down trailers in the hollows lay exposed. The dreary season gave the Gap the look of a naked corpse.
The first few flakes swirled almost invisible in the morning gloom, but before long the frozen air filled with shining white. Despite the icy roads, the sputter of Horton Gillenwater’s old pick up could be heard entering the clinic parking lot.
The nurse knocked at the door of Dr. Greene’s office, “Mr. Gillenwater is here.”
Horton’s physician sipped coffee at his desk as he watched the snowflakes cover the bushes behind the clinic. It was good that the snow caused so many canceled appointments; Horton deserved more than fifteen minutes for this.
The retired mine foreman stooped when he walked, but he still stood well above six feet. Nearly nine decades of scars, sun, and suffering hadn’t robbed his face of its fierce handsomeness. The chart listed Horton’s ethnicity as Melungeon. Five years earlier Dr. Greene had never heard this word. “Dark folks,” a nurse had informed him, “I think they got Indian blood in ‘um.” Horton was making his way toward an open exam room when the doctor met him, “Why don’t we sit in my office?”
Dr. Greene laid the chart on the desk as Horton lowered himself into a chair with his cane. Five years ago, Horton had been the first person to befriend the young doctor arrived in Canaan Gap. The old man had a warmth toward outsiders rare in this isolated corner of Virginia, but once Horton Gillenwater welcomed you the whole of Appalachia was yours.
“I never got no good news when we’ve talked in here,” Horton smiled. “Go ahead, Doc. It’s alright.”
“Your oncologist sent the results of your scan…” There wasn’t an easy way to say it, especially to Horton. “The masses in the lungs and the liver are larger than before.”
“I guess this means more chemo?”
“Well, no. Horton...” Dr. Greene tugged at his beard with his fingers as he met Horton’s gaze, “This means the cancer is going to win. More chemotherapy wouldn’t make any difference.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry.”
Horton took a slow, deliberate breath, “Ain’t nothing to be sorry about, Doc. You done your best. How long I got left?”
“Maybe three or four months.”
“Oh? Wish I had more time to set things straight.” Then Horton smiled, “I reckon everybody wants more time, don’t they?”
“Yes, they do.”
“Doc, I know you ain’t hardly been here long at all,” Dr. Greene had been in the Gap almost five years, but a half-decade was nothing to a man staring down eternity, “but with you knowin’ everything about me, I feel almost like you’re kin…”
“Thank you Horton,” said Greene. Horton’s affection for him wouldn’t make the burden of overseeing his death any easier.
“Do you mind watching out for my boys and Colleen when I’m gone? You know I ain’t always been the best for them.” The old man wasn’t even looking at the doctor anymore; he was looking past him through the window into the empty trees and the falling snow.
Greene recognized the expression. Horton saw the world going on without him. How can anyone really believe in a world without himself? the doctor thought. Who has ever seen such a place?
The doctor knew too well that every person eventually recedes, leaving nothing but a lifeless shell. Dr Greene had an intimacy with death—a knowledge he never discussed. Peaceful or violent, the result was always the same: a vacancy that would never be refilled. Every heart eventually stops, even Horton’s surging heart which folks in Canaan Gap believed to be as constant as the mountains themselves.
“Of course I’ll watch out for your family, Horton.”
“Thanks for taking time for me, Doc,” Horton rose to his full height, a good half-foot above Dr. Greene, and extended his hand. “You’re about as fine a doc as a man in my fix could hope for.”
Greene wished he were as good a physician as his friend Horton believed him to be. “Thank you, Horton.” Greene took Horton’s massive hand.
“I know you got other patients to look out for, but could you be with me when I go?”
“I’ll do my best, Horton.” He embraced old Horton’s broad chest. “I would be honored to be with you.”
“Don’t you get soft on me now, Doc,” Horton laughed as his young doctor released him. “I ain’t the first man to die in this world. We lost men in the mine that weren’t much more ‘an boys. The Lord done blessed me, and I got Elsie waitin’ for me over yonder. Eighty-six years is more than I deserve. You know that more than anyone, Doc.” Horton had used his young doctor as his confessor, and when Dr. Greene told Horton about the tumor hidden in his abdomen Horton told the doctor a secret he’d never told another soul—the one secret that could make Horton’s massive hands tremble and his resonant voice crack like a boy’s. The old miner probably took his physician for the closest thing to a holy man this run-down town had to offer.
Horton looked past his doctor out the window. “Four months, huh? I sure would have enjoyed another summer. Looks like we gonna have a couple inches stick out there.”
“Yeah.” Doctor Greene had forgotten the snow. “Should I call Colleen or one of the boys to pick you up?”
“When my sister and I was little we used to sled in the holler on days like this. Today is the last day of 2004 and I got myself a beautiful morning. I think I’ll go for a walk in the snow.”
Doctor Greene stood beside the window and watched Horton’s stooped frame shuffle through the thickening snow on the sidewalk. The old man turned and waved at the window of Greene’s office. Horton’s skin did not pale in the winter, but held its resilient, bronze hue. His deep-set eyes shone with just the hint of tears.
Greene felt only enough strength to nod in reply to Horton’s salute. A man’s life is like a wave that crashes against the shore and suddenly recedes, leaving no trace of its wild energy. Horton Gillenwater was rapidly receding and would soon be gone.
Horton placed his cane against the stop sign at the corner of Main Street, removed his gloves, and tried to catch the wet snowflakes in his bare hands. Still weak from months of chemotherapy, Horton stumbled, and were it not for the sign would have fallen. Holding onto the post the old man threw back his head with a laugh and opened his mouth, extending his tongue like a child to catch flakes.
Not many people laugh at death. Horton’s exuberance made the doctor’s heart ache. Greene thought of himself and his own life—the arching wave of his loves and fears that would invariably recede as well. In that moment Greene loved Horton more than even his own wife and child. “I’ll be there Horton,” he sighed under his breath.
He watched long after Horton had crossed Canaan Square and disappeared in the thick flurry on his way toward town. Greene found himself jealous of Horton’s peace.
As far as Greene could tell, the force of Horton’s affection was the last thing holding this dilapidated mining community together, and Greene worried about his promise to watch out for Horton’s family. The other Gillenwaters would not do well without him. Trying to envision the Gap without Horton, the doctor could only imagine cruelty and desolation.
Dr. Greene had planned to stay up that night to ring in the New Year, but instead he went to bed early. All night long the snow descended on the valley like the grace of God. The sun returned on the first day of the New Year, and Canaan Gap shone with a clean and perfect whiteness.