Bittersweet Creek (28 page)

Julian

“D
on't leave town,” Len Rogers said with narrowed eyes as he handed me my personal effects. The report Ben had been waiting for had come in, and it suggested I hadn't killed Curtis after all. No, it said the fire ants did him in. Ben used a lot of fancy words from the report, but the gist was so many bites in a certain sensitive region had caused a sort of allergic reaction that might have caused a heart attack or some kind of anaphy-shock thing. At any rate, Len was letting me go as long as I stuck around until the official report came in a few weeks later. Ben was outside calling off his lawyer friend.

“Told you the fire ants did it,” I said as I worked my belt through the loops of my pants.

“Yeah, yeah,” Len said. I got the feeling he was disappointed. He wanted to be in that
Clue
movie:
It was Julian in the pasture with his fists
.

“Come on, Jay. We've got other problems.” Ben waved to me at the door, the phone still at his ear.

I followed him, not sure what was going on because he was talking about wills and estates, one of his actual law specialties.

Finally, about halfway home, he put down his phone. “You may need to find a new home for all your pets.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Your uncle Charlie called, spitting mad. He's filing a petition for probate and said to tell you that you aren't getting a red cent.”

“That so?”

“Seems your father left everything to him but the trailer. Your mama doesn't even get the land the trailer is sitting on.”

“And Uncle Charlie called to tell you this?”

“At the time he couldn't call you, so I was the lucky one. He says he's going to make your life a living hell until you sell him what little of the property is yours.”

“I've seen living hell. He ain't it.” I leaned back into the seat.

“The good news is the whole thing will be tied up in probate for at least four months, probably longer. You'll have time to contest.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You're not listening to me, are you?”

“I'm listening.” But I didn't want to look at the swampy Harlowe Bottom or Wanamaker's store or to think about Romy's little do-or-die speech. I sure as hell didn't want to contest the will. Uncle Charlie could have the whole damn thing as far as I was concerned.

“What did you do now?”

I looked over at him. “What kind of friend are you anyway?”

“The kind who's going to steal a beer from your fridge in about five minutes, so you might as well tell me what you've done now.”

“Romy—”

“Uh-huh,” he said as he guided the car around the corner.

“She told me to show up at the reunion or we're over.”

He snorted. “That's simple enough. Show your ass up.”

“Ben—”

“Don't even tell me it's complicated because it's not. I know complicated. Your situation is no longer complicated.” He pulled into the driveway and stopped just short of the porch. I caught myself looking for Curtis before remembering I wouldn't have to worry about him anymore.

“I hit her.”

“Sure did. She tapped on your shoulder while you were in a righteous rage, and you accidentally punched her. Despite what you seem to think, only one person on this earth has ever put you in such a state, and his sorry ass is dead.” Ben ended his sentence on the slamming of his car door.

I opened the front door, and he headed straight for the fridge, as good as his promise. “Know what your problem is, Jay?”

“Which one?”

“This big chip you have on your shoulder. So you had a hard time reading. So you grew up poor. So your father was an asshole. Not a one of those things is a good enough reason to deny yourself happiness. Get out there and make it happen, man. You've got a good woman who's been cheering you on from the beginning, and you're bitter because you couldn't do it by yourself? Well, that's stupid.”

So many things I wanted to say to him, but my mouth was dry. I went for a beer instead.

“Aw, now he's mad at me,” Ben said before he took a long pull from his bottle. “You just don't know who you are if you're not mad about something.”

At the moment I knew who I was mad at. “Keep it up.”

“There you are daring me,” he said, his voice now soft instead of taunting. That meant he was really mad. He put his bottle down even though it was over half full. “I hope I see you on Friday night.”

Then he walked out on me, too.

 

Since my beer didn't taste right all of a sudden, I went across the yard to check on Mama. At first I didn't see her, but she had to be in the living room since the TV was on. I did a double take at the shriveled woman in the monster recliner. I'd always thought getting rid of Curtis might bring her out of her shell. Instead, she seemed content to get his recliner out of the deal.

I sat in her seat, a stiff flowery chair across from the recliner. If I was expecting her to say she was happy to see me, I was apparently going to be waiting a long time. “What's going on with the will, Mama?”

She kept looking at the TV while she spoke. She had it on
I Love Lucy
reruns and Lucy and Ethel were gobbling up chocolates from an assembly line. “Seems your father left us both out in the cold.”

“Why would he do that?”

She took a deep, ragged breath. “Because you're not his son.”

“What?”

Her bleary eyes met mine. “You're my child, but you're not a McElroy. Not really.”

“But Mamaw—”

“Your mamaw never knew, but your father found out when you were five.”

When I was five?
And I remembered my kindergarten teacher was the first person I told about Curtis. I'd always thought she was the first adult I'd trusted enough, but what if there'd never been anything to tell before then?

“Lester Ledbetter is your real father.”

My father was a gossipy chain-smoker with aspirations of goat farming? “My father is Goat Cheese?”

My mind zeroed in on the last thing Curtis McElroy said to me:
Finally like a McElroy.

Now I knew what he meant.

From the moment he found out his wife had hoodwinked him, he'd started his training. He'd treated me like those pit bulls, doing his damnedest to make me mean.

To make me a McElroy.

But why? If Curtis wasn't my real father then why in the blue hell had she married him?

“How?”

She shrugged. “Lester and I only went out that one time. By the time I figured out what had happened, he was practically engaged to Adelaide. So I walked up to the first man I saw and really poured on the charm.”

My stomach churned. “And Curtis McElroy was the first man you saw?”

She smiled, and I saw a ghost of the pretty woman she had been before cigarettes and Curtis had each taken their toll. “Pregnant women who walk into bars soon find beggars can't be choosers—especially back then. Besides, your father could be quite charming when he wanted to be.”

But not my father.
“And when he started to beat you? You couldn't leave him then? Or at least send me to . . . Mr. Ledbetter?”

“But that was part of our deal, Julian.”

“What deal? What are you talking about?”

“When Curtis found out that you weren't his, I begged him not to turn us out. I didn't have anywhere to go. I'd never even graduated from high school. Both of my parents were already dead. He beat the shit out of me. Then he told me I could stay as long as I didn't tell anyone.”

“That's not a deal.” I thought I was going to throw up.

“No, the deal was that he could hit me, but he could never do more than spank you. And only if you needed it.”

My mind ran through all of my whippings. Up until my senior year, they had all been whippings. Even then he'd started with his belt....

“But, Mama, why didn't you leave?”

She shrugged, but she could still only manage the movement on one side. “I tried once when you told your teacher. I thought maybe the good Lord had given me an opportunity to get out.”

I swallowed hard. That was the worst beating Curtis ever gave her.

She looked over at the wall. “It didn't work out that way. And your father—Curtis—came back with apologies and flowers and chocolates. At the same time he reminded me I had no place to go and no job to support you. He said—”

Her voice broke, so I gave her a minute to move on.

“He said he would fight for you if I left him. He said no court would believe you weren't his. That scared me most of all, so I stayed.”

She took in a shaking breath. “I almost shot him the other day.”

I thought back to how I'd looked at the gun, how I probably would've picked it up and shot the bastard if I hadn't been carrying Romy. “Yeah. Me, too.”

One thing kept bugging me. “Why'd you go out there, Mama?”

“Because you told me I didn't deserve it no matter what. I had been telling myself all these years that you hated me. I realized you didn't, but if something happened to her then you would.”

I crossed the room and crouched down beside her recliner. Now I could hear the laugh track from
I Love Lucy,
a laugh track for the world's least funny conversation. I laid a hand on Mama's good arm. “Mama, I could never hate you.”

She leaned over and kissed my forehead. “You could, but you don't. And I'm grateful for that.”

Romy

R
ed dress? Check.

Fully stocked and awesomely decorated Fountain? Check.

Errant husband? Time would tell.

Genie and I stood on the threshold of The Fountain, dressed in our best and ready to start welcoming our classmates. By all rights, I should've been nervous, but I wasn't. I wanted Julian to show up, but I meant what I'd said. I couldn't fight him anymore. He would have to make the next move, and it would need to be the last one.

One thing I knew for sure: I wasn't moving back to Nashville. I belonged here in Ellery. No matter what happened with Julian, I wasn't going to let fear or guilt keep me from the farm where I'd grown up. I was actually excited at the prospect of teaching in the schools I'd once attended. Maybe I could inspire another little farm girl to go to Vanderbilt. Maybe she'd go be a lawyer.

“How do I look?” Genie had spent an inordinate amount of time primping. Between that and her hand wringing, I was beginning to wonder if there was trouble in paradise. Surely not.

“You look fantastic. That purple really suits you.”

She grinned. “And you look like the Fourth of July with that red dress, blue cast, and white bandage.”

“I wanted to be festive,” I said with a shrug. “That and the red dress was the only one I could get on with the cast.”

At that point, people started arriving, so we split up and acted as hostesses, directing people to the bar, the photographer, or the space Bill had cleared for a dance floor. I felt only a little twinge of jealousy when Ben arrived. He took a step back at the sight of Genie, then made her twirl for him before he drew her close for a kiss.

They headed for the dance floor, and I sneaked a peek at my phone. Julian had three hours left to show up. I took a ragged breath and forced a smile on my face before journeying into the crowd.

Julian

A
fter spending most of the day cutting hay and getting Little Ann settled in on the back porch, I showered and sat in my favorite chair with a glass of water. I'd told myself I wasn't looking at the clock, but I'd sneaked a glance that told me it was two hours after the reunion started.

I flipped through the TV channels aimlessly. Reality shows. Spanish game show. Rose not scooting over to make room for Jack on the raft. The weather.

Once I'd studied the weather report enough to know I'd cut my hay too soon, I started flipping again, but I felt restless. A rerun of
Seinfeld
. The Cardinals game. The end of
When Harry Met Sally.

Billy Crystal started running, and I put my water down on the end table. I was standing in front of the kitchen counter where my truck keys were before I knew what was happening. Mamaw's orange blossom ring sat beyond the keys, and I put that in my pocket, too.

Out the door I went, not even bothering to turn off the TV. I slid into the truck and started backing down the driveway. I made it a few miles down the road when all the lights on the dash flashed and went black. The truck died. I managed to pull over to the side as it rolled, but I'd already seen the problem as the mileage flashed on the dashboard and then went out: seventy-four thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine miles.

The alternator. I'd never hear the end of that—assuming I got there in time for Romy to ever speak to me again.

I dug out my cell to call her. No bars in the dip where the truck had given out, and it would be dead by the time I got bars. I could expect to hear about that, too.

Dammit.

No taxi cabs in the country, so there was nothing left to do but start running.

Romy

M
y nerves had begun to fray in spite of my earlier resolve. We'd announced all of the awards, and Genie had been forced to give the one for Couple Married Longest to Lacey Bolton and her husband because I didn't have a husband there. It was beginning to look like I wouldn't be having a husband for much longer.

I'd mourned the possibility, then tried to hide from it. Now, the thought of losing Julian caused a bone-deep sadness, but I could still muster a smile. I would move on, if I had to; I, like the Gloria Gaynor song playing, would survive. I danced. I had a beer. I told myself not to stare when Genie and Ben shared a slow dance.

I checked my phone.

Thirty minutes left.