Family Thang (34 page)

“Baby! I’m not your baby. You never wanted to see me before. You and Chester never came to see me when I was living with Pa-pa. Why you want to see me now?”

“Lester,” she corrected him. “His name is Lester.”

“Lester, Chester, Molester, all the same to me.”

“He’s your father!”

“Ha! The one time he come to the house to see Pa-pa he wouldn’t even look at me. My father lives in Little Rock. He sent me my bow and a picture of him in a Houdini jacket. Somebody lied to you.”

“Shane! Don’t you dare talk to me like that! I’m your mother. Don’t you ever talk to me like that! You hear me? Never!”

He didn’t respond, and she wondered if now, at night, in the woods, was the ideal time to teach him manners.

She lowered her voice: “How are you getting along out here?”

He didn’t answer and started giggling. She’d never heard him giggle before. It sent a chill down her spine. “What’s so funny?”

He stopped giggling. “You want to see where I live? I fixed it up all myself.”

“Yes, Shane. Sure, why not,” though not particularly desiring to do so, especially if he started giggling again. Men, especially young men meeting their mother in the woods after a seventeen-year absence, shouldn’t giggle. She would tell him that. Tomorrow, when the sun came up.

Shane took her hand and started up the trail, a little too fast to her liking.
What’s the rush?

“There’s a buncha ways to get up here,” Shane said. “The trails are the easiest, but usually I go through the trees. This way you can really get the feel of the surroundings.”

“Great. I’ll remember my next visit.”

The ground leveled and Shane stopped. “Home,” he announced. “You can’t see em now, there’re two cabins up here. Lightning struck a tree and it landed on one of em. I don’t live in it, though. C’mon.” He led her inside a cabin and released her hand. “Right here,” patting on something, “is my bed. I made the frame out of pinewood. The pillow out of rags and quail feathers.”

“Nice.” She heard him moving across the room.

“This here’s the couch.”

“What you make it out of?”

“Nothing. It was here when I got here.”

“Is it what I’m smelling? Sorta stale, isn’t it?”

“Naw,” and giggled. God, she wished he’d stop that. “It’s not the couch, it’s me. I haven’t had a bath since I been here. Too much trouble.”

Too much info.
“No big deal.”

“You want something to eat?”

“No!”

“I got some turkey, squirrel and possum meat drying out back. Got turtle eggs, too. Think I got a little rabbit meat left over from the other day. You like rabbit meat, don’t ya?”

Yes, from the store and refrigerated.
“Thanks, I’m not hungry.”

“You sure? Won’t be no trouble. Rabbit meat and turtle eggs, don’t it just make your mouth water?”

Yes, to spit.
“No, thank you, Shane, I’m fine. I’d like it if you turn the lights on.”

“No lights out here. If I start a fire it’ll be too hot. You staying the night? You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Ruth Ann couldn’t speak. Maybe it was the lack of inflection in his tone, the casual way he’d said it. She didn’t know him, had never taken the time to get to know him. Yet here he was in the woods alone, living in a manner unfit for a grown man, roughing it--
and he offered me his bed.

Her legs went weak, eyes welled up. She sat down on the floor.

“Guess you can have the pillow, too,” Shane said.

That broke the dam and she started crying.

Shane said, “You can take the couch.”

She couldn’t stop crying long enough to tell him that wasn’t the problem.

Shane crossed to her. “Don’t cry.” He knelt beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry. Please don’t cry! I apologize what I said about Luther. Stop crying, please!”

She tried to tell him the name was Lester, not Luther, but the words wouldn’t form. Her entire body shook, and she was aware she hadn’t cried like this since she was in grade school.

Shane patted her back…her head…shoulder. “Don’t cry! I’ll start a fire out front and it’ll shine a little light in here. If you want I’ll push the bed onto the porch. Stop crying, please!”

She tried to stop…couldn’t.

Shane got up, and she heard him padding across the room and then a ruffling sound. He returned and said, “You can have this…if you stop crying.” Something furry brushed her face and she jumped. “It’s all right. It’s my lucky rabbit foot. You can have it.”

Ruth Ann shook her head and pressed both hands firmly over her mouth, successfully stifling the noise but not the ache.

“Thank goodness!” Shane said, utterly relieved.

Chapter 30

Robert Earl banged his head against the kitchen table. Bang! “No!” Bang! “No!” Bang! “No!” Bang!

“Stop it, Robert,” Estafay said.

Robert Earl banged his head once more and stared at his wife. “Did you hear what she just said? Daddy left all the money to Ruth Ann. All of it! I quit my job, we’re knee-deep in debt. Where you prefer to sleep? A homeless shelter, under a bridge, the library?” He banged his head again and again.

“Stop the nonsense, Robert. Stop it now!” Estafay said, and turned her attention to Shirley, sitting opposite Robert Earl, wearing a gray sweat suit. “Shirley, first let me say I hold no grudge against you. How do we know what you say is true?”

“It’s true. I have no reason to lie to you.”

Estafay sidled between Shirley and the fridge and stood behind Robert Earl--hands covering his face, shaking his head--and massaged his shoulders.

“Just yesterday,” Estafay said, “you were looking for a gun to shoot Ruth Ann. Today you’re telling us all the money is goin
g to her. You see why we find this
hard to believe?”

“I see,” and reached down the front of her sweat suit and retrieved a rolled-up sheet of paper. She straightened it out and slid it across the table toward Robert Earl, who banged his head on it, leaving a sweaty smudge. “Read it, Robert Earl.”

“Where did you get this?” Estafay asked as Robert Earl read the paper.

“Does it matter?”

“Dag gummit!” Robert Earl shouted, and crumbled the paper against his forehead.

Shirley said, “Robert Earl, I need it back.”

Robert Earl squeezed his temples. “Dag gummit! Dag gummit!”

Estafay bopped him over the head with an open palm. “Get thee behind me, Satan!”

Robert Earl groaned. Religious condemnation was the last thing he wanted to hear now. How sanctimonious would she be when they both were standing in a soup line? Or elbowing each other for space in
side
a cardboard box?

“There is a way,” Shirley said, staring at the plastic fruit bowl in the center of the table, “to change the circumstances. A way we can guarantee our share of the money.”

“Beg Ruth Ann?” Robert Earl said.

Shirley shook her head.

“Contest the will?”

“We could. It’ll take a long time and the lawyers will slice off a big chunk of the cake once it settles. Not exactly what I had in mind.”

“What, then?”

“Ruth Ann is on the run. She’s running from me and I think she’s running from Lester. She was over to Momma’s, didn’t stay long. I talked to Leonard and I got the feeling he’s pissed off at her, too. She--”

“I’m sorry to hear it, Shirley,” Robert Earl interrupted. “Get to how we’ll get our share of the money.”

Shirley cut him an irritated look and continued, “She doesn’t have her vehicle. She’s on foot. Doesn’t have any friends, least none I know of. So where can she go? My bet, she’s out there in the woods with Shane.” She stopped and took a sip of water from a jelly glass. “You know where the Boy Scout camp is, don’t you, Robert Earl? Going toward Hamburg?”

Robert Earl nodded, eyes saying, “So what?”

Shirley picked up a plastic orange from the bowl and bounced it on the table. “You know, Robert Earl, bad things happen in the woods. Terrible things.” She put the orange back. “Horrible things! You know what I mean, Robert Earl?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Accidents. Fatal accidents! You could fall off a cliff, get bit by a poisonous snake, you could accidentally shoot yourself. Get the picture, Robert Earl?”

“Snakes, even poisonous snakes, seldom bite people. It happens, rarely. If a snake bit you it probably wouldn’t kill you. Unless you panic. Shirley, snakes are a lot like dogs, they can sense fear. With a snake, though, you can’t tie it up and expect it to stay calm. It will rather die than be shackled.”

Estafay said, “Not what she’s talking about, Robert. Not what she’s talking about at all. She’s talking murder.”

“Murder!” Robert Earl said.

“I didn’t say murder,” Shirley said. “Estafay said murder.”

“Yes, I did,” Estafay said. “Murder. Exactly what you’re insinuating, isn’t it?”

Shirley didn’t respond.

“Is it true?” Robert Earl asked.

“Perchance Ruth Ann befell an accident,” Shirley said, “then the money will be split one less person, which increases the amount to each. A fourth of a million is a lot more than a fifth of a million.”

Robert Earl mumbled and touched his fingers to his thumb. “Really?”

“Really,” Shirley said. “Figure it out on paper.”

“You want me to drop you off over there?” Robert Earl said. “Come on, I’ll drop you off.”

“Robert!” Estafay said. “Robert, I won’t have this talk of evildoing in my house. A child of God resides in this house, and I won’t let it be blasphemed, or used for devil’s work.”

“Estafay, honey, why don’t you go lie down? You look tired. Go rest up a bit.”

“I don’t wanna lie down. How can I lie down while devil’s work is being planned under my roof?”

Shirley smiled at Robert Earl and said, “Estafay, sit down and shut up or get out!”

Estafay’s mouth popped open. She held it agape a beat before saying, “Are you talking to me?”

“Your name Estafay, isn’t it?”

Estafay stood there looking shocked, and Robert Earl could feel her eyes searing the top of his head. She muttered something under her breath and then stormed out of the kitchen.

Shirley said, “We also need to inform Leonard.”

“You really think we oughta bring the fag into this?”

“Don’t call him that!” Shirley snapped. “His name is Leonard, and he needs to know.”