It's Not Like I Knew Her (6 page)

“Ma'am, if you're strapped for money, I'll gladly pay.” Red stood and handed Aunt Pearl a crisp bill from his wallet. “And I'd appreciate you passing along these funny books.” He smiled sheepishly. “Her favorites, I believe.”

“I'm sorry, Mr. Dozier. I must ask that you not leave those.” She stared at his big hands as he rolled the comics into a tight tube.

Too bad he'd wasted his money. Aunt Pearl had set down the rule of no comics as punishment for what happened with Tommy Lee.

Concealed behind the hedge at the corner of the house, Jodie watched as Red crossed the yard, the rolled comics clutched in his hand. Reaching the car, he turned and squinted back in the direction of the house. He bent and placed the comics on the ground, got into the Dodge, and drove away.

Why had he bothered if he was just going to drive away like all the times before? She got a sinking feeling that after hearing
peculiar
, he was gone forever. Then it suited her fine that he'd come only to hear about Jewel. Let him stop by the cemetery, put flowers on her grave. Not that it could make a tinker's damn to her now.

She walked to where he'd stood, picked up the comics, and glanced back to see if her aunt was watching from the front window. She'd take his damn funny books, trade with one of the kids on the block. That way, it didn't have to mean she'd ever expected anything from Red Dozier.

T
he last day of the school term came with no word from Red, and it pleased Jodie that Aunt Pearl had stopped repeating the certainty of his return. In her book, he was no more dependable than her mother had been, although Jewel had the better excuse. Rather, she believed her best bet lay with the envelopes that arrived monthly. Jodie had to hand it to her timid aunt; she was a damn sight better at squeezing money from Red than Jewel had been. She had begun to relax, believing Aunt Pearl had come to view her staying as profitable, if not ideal.

Jodie's end of the year report card sat propped against the salt and pepper shakers in the center of the kitchen table, along with a vase of mixed flowers from the yard. The aroma of chicken, deep frying in the big Dutch oven, wafted through the house, and supper promised to be as close to a celebration as Aunt Pearl permitted.

Jodie scrubbed her face and hands and stared at her image in the cloudy mirror. She had none of her mother's good looks, and any similarities ended with their tar black hair, hers impossible to drag a comb through. Aunt Pearl had said she had her mama's way of looking on others with suspicion. She straightened her rumpled shirt and shrugged, her reflection frowning back at her. She'd at least go to the table dirt-free the way Aunt Pearl expected.

“Oh, there you are. And don't you look … clean. Chicken's ready to take up. Go ahead and sit down.”

“Sure smells good. I believe I could eat a whole fryer.”

“I'd give anything if your poor sweet mama could know how well you've done during your time here.” The grave had served to soften Aunt Pearl's recollections of Jewel. Her mama was never sweet, and she wouldn't want to be remembered that way.

“Sit, child, and eat. It's your special night.” Her tone had the ring of a once in a lifetime happening, even though her aunt had begun to harp on the perils of her getting fat, warning that boys didn't like fat girls. As far as Jodie was concerned, big wasn't the same as fat, and big was her equalizer with bullies like Tommy Lee. Besides, she didn't give a damn what boys liked or didn't like. The prettiest girls liked having a big, ugly girl as company, although she was never among those invited to their sleepovers.

Jodie filled her plate, her attention giving way to the pleasure of stuffing herself. While Aunt Pearl wasn't a big eater, she'd hardly touched her food, and she'd done that odd thing of patting down the right side of her heavily sprayed hairdo, a habit she had when perplexed, causing her head to appear tilted.

“Why aren't you eating? Chicken's the best. Taters melt in my mouth like ice cream.”

“Thank you, shug. I guess I grazed too much while fixing supper.” She smiled, but in a way Jodie knew was forced. “Go on and enjoy your food. But save room for my twelve-layer chocolate cake.”

Jodie turned back to her plate, thinking of the thin-layer chocolate cake, her absolute favorite. Yet, the more Aunt Pearl picked at her food, the more Jodie wished she hadn't eaten so fast.

The big hand on the grease-spattered clock hanging on the wall above the stove clicked slowly toward what Jodie felt was some impending doom. She swallowed hard, forcing the food to stay down.

“All right, what are you not telling me?”

Yesterday she'd stolen two new comics, and although old man Pepper, the storekeeper, had taken her dime for the RC Cola, she wanted this to be about him having noticed the bulge under her shirt. She'd return the slightly used comics, cry convincingly, and offer to sweep out the store for a week. Lay low for a time, and all would blow over. Stealing was fixable.

Aunt Pearl put down her fork, the deep lines of her worn face etched in dread. She gathered their plates from the table, plunging them into a cloud of sweet-smelling suds. She stood staring out the kitchen window before turning back to Jodie's question.

Jodie pushed up hard against the back of her chair; she knew what was to come was much bigger than stolen comic books.

“I washed up your clothes, and you'll want to pack them in that old brown cardboard suitcase you came with.”

“Why? Are we going someplace?” She and her aunt had never as much as gone to a picture show together.

“Mr. Dozier called yesterday. And he's agreed to take you to live with him and his family in Florida.” Aunt Pearl's fake cheerfulness was lost in the tears she wiped away on the back of her soapy wrist, lather running down her forearm, dripping onto her clean kitchen floor.

“Agreed? No damn way. It was settled.” Had Red stopped sending the envelopes?

“He's insisting.” She glanced at the floor. She was a terrible liar.

“So what? There's no law against me being here.” Still she clutched thin air.

“I know, but you're wrong. If put to a judge, he'd say you belong with him.” Aunt Pearl paused, as if searching for a higher reason.

But whether she stayed or went with Red didn't feel to Jodie like the kind of decision the law should make. “No, here with you is where my dead mama wanted me. And what she wanted can't be changed by God, or no judge, and least of all Red Dozier.” Her lungs collapsed like a pricked balloon, her voice thinned, and she pleaded, “Please, you don't know anything about where he means to take me.”

“He can give you a real family. And that's something you and I can never be. He's got a good Christian wife and a … daughter. Be grateful she's willing to take you in.”

“But, you're a Christian.” Jodie had heard in Aunt Pearl's hesitancy the truth she could not escape. No matter how hard she tried to become someone worthy, she was
peculiar.

Jodie, I'm sorry. I know you don't understand. But I'm doing what I think best for you.” Aunt Pearl dropped into a chair, her forehead resting against her palms.

“You're wrong. I do understand.” Jodie rose from the table and walked out of the kitchen.

When she'd packed all she owned in the tattered suitcase, she lay down on the bed, fully dressed, to wait out the night. She had no choice but to go with Red Dozier, wherever he meant to take her.

R
ed arrived early, declining to stay for the meal Aunt Pearl offered. Jodie refused to hug her tearful aunt and walked to Red's car without looking back. If she ever stopped feeling betrayed, maybe she'd get around to thinking of Aunt Pearl more kindly.

The Dodge smelled of spit and polish, and Red wore starched and ironed khaki pants with hard creases and a long-sleeved shirt bleached whiter than what Jewel had called the underside of death. Jodie sat up straight, tugged at the short hem of her dress. Her school shoes pinched so her toenails rolled under.

It hadn't taken long for the two of them to become strangers. They rode the first hour or so mostly in silence, neither seeming to know what to say to the other. Then he turned to her, surprising her with his question.

“What ever happened to those Easter biddies we fixed the pen for?” He smiled slightly. “They didn't stay pink, did they?” His smile widened.

“Them? No way. They turned out to be Rhode Island Reds. As to what happened, they stayed behind with a friend when me and Jewel went on the road.”

“Did that last long? Traveling with the band?” He frowned.

“Not really. After a while, I begged Jewel to leave me off at Aunt Pearl's. I was missing too much school.” She looked away, pretending sudden interest in the stiff corpse of a raccoon picked apart by buzzards.

“How was it there with your Aunt Pearl? She seemed nice enough.”

“Like watching a hen set eggs. But I got used to steady. Never went hungry and never slept cold. Aunt Pearl was always home before sundown.”

After that, conversation dried up. Jodie covered her growing uneasiness by faking an interest in the Bible Aunt Pearl had given her as a going away present. In the front of the Bible, she had neatly written
Frances Josephine Taylor.
On a second page, decorated in fancy curvy lettering and titled “Family History,” she'd written
Jewel Faye Taylor
above the line denoting mother. Above Jewel's name was written the names
James Franklin Taylor and Frances Josephine Ayers, Grandparents.
Was she named for a woman Aunt Pearl claimed was her grandmother, a woman Jewel had never as much as mentioned?

The line naming
Father
was blank, and Jodie decided Aunt Pearl's certainty was no more solid than her own.

Slipped between the pages, she found a faded picture of two young girls. The older wore a worried look, her arm shielding the younger. On the back of the picture was written
Pearl Mae Taylor, born 1911 and Jewel Faye Taylor, born 1921.
Her mama had been sixteen the year Jodie was born. All the times before when she'd asked about family, Jewel had only shrugged, as if they had crawled fully formed from some slimy place like slippery toads.

“Read the Bible a lot, do you?” Red glanced at her with the playful twinkle she remembered.

“Can't say I'm altogether faithful.” Jodie closed the book and watched cotton bolls escaping from the bed of an open trailer ahead, swirling in the hot air like popcorn.

“I've never been much for reading the Bible. But I've always liked the story of that kid, David. It says he brought down a giant with one smooth stone, using a little bitty slingshot he whittled while tending his daddy's sheep.” He kept a straight face, and Jodie decided that Red Dozier was likely good at poker.

“Yep, I'd say he got off a lucky shot. Then, I'm partial to a pig sticker.” She'd never heard the story of David, but she liked his guts, although the boy could not have been too smart.

“That right?” Red smiled, and she was sure he was onto her lie, but he seemed to lighten up all the more.

“Play the radio if you want. Might pick up a decent station out of Pensacola. It's not all that far now.”

“Did you ever hear Jewel sing on the radio?” Maybe he had and she'd somehow missed it.

“No, I never did. Don't think that radio deal panned out.” There was a hint of regret in the slow way he shook his head.

There was never a deal. Just Troy's bullshit. Had Jewel fed Red the same line? If so, was that why he never bothered coming back? She'd ask, but she really didn't want to know.

“Why do you call your mama Jewel?” His forehead wrinkled and his blue eyes searched hers.

“She said calling her ‘mama' made her feel old.” But now that she'd never get any older, what she called her couldn't matter.

He nodded, but his frown stayed.

“What am I to call you?”

“Red will do fine. And where we're going it's just as well you don't talk about your mama. It'll go easier on you.” The big vein in his neck popped blue under the red splotching of his skin.

“As far as I care, you can tell your fine wife any lie you want. But Jewel Faye Taylor was my mama. I bet you didn't even know I was named for my grandma. Says so right here in this Bible. You want to see for yourself?” She waved the book at him in the way she'd seen Aunt Pearl do. “And I'm not pretending otherwise. If you don't like it, you can stop this car and let me out.” Choking back tears, she grabbed the door handle.

He reached across, laying a firm hand on her shoulder.

“No doubt she's your mama.” For an instant, a faint smile played at the corners of his mouth. “And you can forget what I said. You're right to stick up for her.”

His admitting to being wrong didn't mean she forgave him. But for now, her choices were Red's place or the state orphanage. She'd take her chances with him.

An hour or so later, Jodie got her first look at Catawba, Florida. It was a pitiful looking town: five blocks of nothing to brag about buildings facing off along Main Street, including a Western Union, dry goods store, hardware, grocery, feed and seed, filling station, café, brick schoolhouse, and two churches. A heavy veil of putrid smoke nearly blocked the sun, and Jodie pinched her nose, breathing through her mouth.

“That stink's the paper mill located over in the next town. On a good day, when the wind's just right, it stinks up our town only half this bad. You'll get used to it. Everybody does.”

Jodie was certain she'd never get used to living in a town that smelled like rotted eggs and pine rosin. It was just as well that Red had never tried bringing her and Jewel here to live. Catawba was in no way a place of deep breathing.

Red pointed out a grassy square and the two-story, red brick building that occupied its center. “That's the county courthouse. Some of the state's biggest crooks operate out of there.” His sternness led her to take him at his word. Two old men dressed in bib overalls and white shirts sat on a green bench near the courthouse. One leaned and spat a stream of brown tobacco juice onto the manicured lawn. On the far side of the green, two boys about her age chased each other in hard play. They reminded her of black Alvin and white Rabbit, boys from the row. A long-legged, brown dog barked and chased after them.