A Death On The Wolf (21 page)

“
I think he’s cool,” Frankie said. “You just don’t like him because he’s got long hair.”

“
Got nothin’ to do with his hair,” his dad said. He looked at Daddy. “Lem?”

“
I agree. Something isn’t right there.”

“
Dick thinks he’s a hippie,” I said. “Is that why y’all don’t like him?”

“
Hippie or not,” Daddy said, “I’ve learned to trust my first impressions when it comes to folks. I didn’t get a good impression from Mr. Bong.”

Miss Darla came over to the table. “Y’all need anything else?”

“
Just the checks. Put my ugly brother’s steak on my check.” Daddy pulled his wallet from his back pocket.

“
It’s all taken care of,” Miss Darla said.

Daddy looked up at the counter where Bobby Dean was standing behind the register. “He didn’t have to do that,” he said.

Miss Darla puffed. “That ol’ tightwad? He didn’t.”

Daddy looked to Uncle Rick and Frankie’s dad. They both shook their heads. He looked back at Miss Darla. “Who?”

“
Mr. Ponytail who was sitting with y’all. Paid for the whole table and gave me a five dollar tip.”

Daddy frowned. “Here’s a couple more,” he said. Uncle Rick gave her a dollar and Mr. Frank gave her two.

Miss Darla looked at me with a big grin and said, “I wish you had a sixteenth birthday every week, sugar. I could retire while I’m still young and beautiful.”

We all laughed, except Daddy. He was still frowning.

Chapter 13

Sea of Heartbreak

In 1961, Don Gibson recorded a song entitled “Sea of Heartbreak.” It reached the number two spot on Billboard’s Hot Country Singles chart that year. On the day after my sixteenth birthday it was playing on the radio as I carried the love of my life for a ride in my new car. How prophetic that song’s title would turn out to be for a day that had begun so sublime.

“
So you liked my birthday gift?” Mary Alice asked just as we crossed over the Wolf River bridge.

“
I still can’t believe you got that for me,” I said. “I was expecting to get it from Santa Claus for Christmas.”

She laughed at me and said, “You still believe in Santa Claus?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course not, but my sister does. It’s a lot easier not to slip up if I just say that Daddy’s presents are from Santa.”

What Mary Alice had given me for my birthday was something I’d been drooling over since last winter in the sporting goods department at the Western Auto in town: a Browning Sweet Sixteen shotgun. Imagine my surprise yesterday when I unwrapped that oblong present to find a gleaming black and gold box with Browning Automatic Shotgun writ large on it. I knew the price of this magnificent gun was $185 and I could not believe Mary Alice had that kind of money to spend on a birthday present for someone, even if it was her boyfriend.

“
So, why did you get me the gun?” I asked. Even though I was driving, I could not help but steal a glance over at Mary Alice. She was gorgeous with the wind blowing her hair as we cruised along at 35 miles per hour.

“
I asked your dad if there was anything you really, really wanted other than a car and he said the only thing he could think of was that shotgun.”

“
And you had the money to buy it?”

“
No, Nelson, I got your Aunt to carry me down there and I shoplifted it.” Mary Alice giggled at her own sarcasm. “Sorry about not having any bullets for it,” she added.

“
Shells, not bullets,” I said. The Western Auto was out of 16 gauge shells, and it was the only store in town that sold ammunition of any kind. Earlier, I had called down to the store and spoken to Mr. Tooley, the owner, and he told me they’d be getting some in with the next shipment in a week or so.

“
Are we going into town?” Mary Alice asked.

“
We’re going away from town,” I said. “Why? Do you need something from town?”

“
Let’s go down to the Colonel Dixie and get a milkshake.”

That was a great idea and I wished I’d thought of it. There was a tractor path coming up that led into one of Ben May’s pastures, so I pulled in there and turned around. Once I’d backed out onto the road, I slipped the transmission from reverse into first, dumped the throttle and popped the clutch. The rear tires chirped and we roared off back down the road. When the tach needle hit 4000 RPM, I shifted into second. When we hit 50 miles per hour, I shifted into third and then let off the gas and dropped it into fourth. I was grinning from ear to ear. Yes, I loved this car. Mrs. Borcher’s ’64 Impala was a distant memory soon to be forgotten.

We had to go by the house on the way to town and as we approached my driveway I saw Frankie turning into it on his bike. I stopped at the end of the drive and blew the horn.

“
Hey!” he shouted, turning to look at me over his shoulder.

I looked over at Mary Alice. “Do you care if Frankie goes with us?” I asked.

“
No,” she said.

Frankie had ridden back down the drive and was at the car now. “We’re going into town and get a shake,” I told him. “Go park your bike and ride with us.” Frankie grinned and pedaled back up into the edge of the yard, dropped his bike, and then ran back to the car. I opened the door and leaned the seatback forward so he could crawl in.

“
Hey, Mary Alice,” he said as he slid into the backseat.

“
Hello, Frankie,” she replied.

I looked at Frankie in the rear view mirror and hit the gas. I laughed out loud as he was thrown back in the seat and we roared off as I wound out the Hawk’s V8 in first gear then shifted into second. “Man, I love this car,” Frankie said.

When we got to the Colonel Dixie, I went in to get our shakes while Mary Alice and Frankie waited in the car. When I came out, Peter Bong was parked beside us sitting on his Vincent motorcycle. He was talking to Frankie, who was leaning out the back window on the passenger side of the car. I spoke to Peter as he got off his bike and went in the restaurant.

“
Where is he from?” Mary Alice said as I handed her the vanilla milkshake through her open window.

“
Australia,” I answered. I stuck Frankie’s chocolate shake back to him and he took it.

“
Thanks, man,” he said, “I’ll pay you back.”

“
How come you never have any money with you?” I asked as I got back in the car.

“
Hey, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere I’d need money. I was just coming up to your house and then you asked me to come along, remember?”

“
Yeah, yeah,” I said.

“
I gotta hurry up and finish this,” he said.

I took a sip of my shake and looked at him in the rearview mirror. “Why?”

“
Peter said he’d take me for a ride on his Vincent.”

I turned around to face Frankie, who was now sprawled out lengthwise and taking up the whole back seat. “When?” I asked. He was sucking hard on the red straw in his shake and had Mary Alice not been sitting beside me I would have made a totally appropriate—and crude—wise crack.

“
When he gets done eating,” Frankie said and pointed to the glass wall of the Colonel Dixie dining area in front of us.

“
I don’t think you should,” I said—a little more sternly than I had intended.

Frankie frowned, and still sucking on his shake, sat up. “Why not?” he asked, the straw clenched between his front teeth.

“
You heard what my dad and your dad said yesterday,” I reminded him.

“
So what?”

“
Your dad told you to stay away from him.”

Frankie had reached the bottom of the cup and was slurping up the remnants of his shake. “Don’t worry about it.” He pushed on the back of my seat. “Let me out,” he said. “I’ve got to go to the bathroom.”

I let Frankie out and watched him go inside. “How’s your shake?” I asked Mary Alice.

“
Very good,” she said. “Thank you.”

I asked her if I could taste it, so she held the cup over to me. “I’d rather taste it like this,” I said. I leaned over and kissed her long on the mouth.

“
Are you trying to embarrass me?” Mary Alice asked.

“
What do you mean?” I said, licking the vanilla taste on my lips.

“
We’re sitting in public.”

“
We’re sitting in my car,” I retorted.

When Frankie and Peter Bong came out of the restaurant, Frankie announced he was going for a ride with Peter. I started to issue another protest, but decided against it. As they climbed on the Vincent, Peter leaned down and looked in the car at me. “Why don’t you go back home and get your bike and we can all go riding?” he said.

“
Maybe next time,” I said. “I promised Mary Alice I’d take her for a ride in my new car.”

“
Okay, mate,” Peter said. He kicked the big V-twin to life and I watched as he and Frankie roared off on the Vincent.

Mary Alice and I rode around Bells Ferry for about half an hour before heading back to the house. When we got there, Frankie’s bicycle was still lying in my front yard. As I was helping Mary Alice out of the car, Aunt Charity stepped out onto her front porch and hollered for me to get the mail out of the boxes. “Just wait here in the car,” I told Mary Alice. I walked down to the end of our drive where both our mailbox and Aunt Charity’s was. Our box was empty, but I got my aunt’s mail and then Mary Alice and I walked over to Aunt Charity’s. I gave her the mail and Mary Alice and I sat in the swing where we’d first kissed nearly a month ago.

Not five minutes had gone by when Aunt Charity appeared at her front door with a foreboding look on her face. “Nelson, I need to see you a minute,” she said. I got up and followed her into the house. She led me to the kitchen and motioned for me to sit at the bar. She picked up an envelope that had been a part of the day’s mail and handed it to me. “Read that,” she said.

I took the envelope and looked at the imprinted name and address on the flap. It was from Mary Alice’s brother. I removed the letter and read it. As my eyes scanned the neatly written script I could not believe what I was reading. When I came to the end I looked up at Aunt Charity in total shock. “Are you going to tell her?” I asked.

“
You should do it,” she said. “And just read the letter to her, Nelson. Don’t editorialize.”

“
Let’s just burn it and say you never got it,” I proffered.

My aunt frowned at me. She didn’t have to tell me we could not do that. I got up with the letter in hand. That pain in my stomach had returned—the same pain I got that Sunday morning when Mary Alice heard me tell Aunt Charity that I wished she’d never brought Mary Alice here for the summer. I went out on the porch and sat in one of the chairs facing the swing where Mary Alice was sitting. “Mary Alice,” I said and cleared my throat. “Aunt Charity got a letter today from Beau.”

Her face brightened. “Really?” she said.

“
She wants me to read it to you. I don’t think you’re going to like what it says.”

Now Mary Alice was picking up on my forlorn tone. “What’s wrong, Nelson?” she said with a hint of worry. “Is Beau all right?”

Hell no he’s not all right! I wanted to scream. He’s lost his cotton picking mind. But instead I unfolded her brother’s letter and read it to her:

August 3, 1969

Dear Mrs. Jackson,

Thank you for your gracious hospitality this past Saturday during my visit to see my sister. I also want to express my appreciation for how kind and generous you have been to Mary Alice since she has been at the Masonic Home. She has told me numerous times how much you remind her of our grandmother, and after meeting you, I concur. That fact makes the writing of this letter all the more difficult, so I’ll get right to the point. I believe the relationship between my sister and your nephew is inappropriate. I realize that Mary Alice will be fifteen in a few months and that Nelson is himself just fifteen, but about to turn sixteen. Nevertheless, it was clear from meeting him that he is considerably more mature than his age would otherwise dictate. I do not feel my sister is ready to be in any sort of serious relationship with a boy like Nelson. I do not want this to jeopardize the relationship you have with my sister, but I must insist that you cut short her stay with you and return her immediately to the Masonic Home in Poplarville. Should you choose not to accede to my wishes, you will leave me no other choice but to exert whatever pressure I can on the administration at the home for their assistance in this matter. If necessary, I am prepared to petition the Chancery Court in Pearl River County for emergency guardianship of my sister and remove the Masonic Home from the situation altogether. I sincerely hope this will not be necessary. Please feel free to share as much of this letter with my sister as you deem appropriate.