Nether Regions (13 page)

Delora smiled at the phrase. “You want a beer, Hinchey?”

At his nod, she fetched a Michelob from the cooler, popped the cap and set it on the bar in front of him. She leaned back and lit a cigarette, glad that the French Club still allowed smoking at the bar.

“Thanks, sweetness.”

“You hungry, Hinchey?” Esther asked. “Mike just whipped up some fries and cheeseburgers back there.”

“Yeah. I’ll take one of each,” he answered, lifting the beer to his lips.

He turned to Delora. “So, are you okay?”

“Not much. Just watched a fight between that couple over by the window.”

Hinchey craned his neck as he took a long swig of beer. “Them? Fighting? Who are they?”

“Imports, looks like. Esther knows them.”

“Did I hear my name?” Esther entered from the back having given Mike Hinchey’s order in person.

“That couple?” Delora inclined her head. “Hinchey wants to know who they are.”

Esther peered at Hinchey. “No one you’d know. They moved here from Virginia a couple years back. He works over at Bryson’s, moving rock every day.”

“What were they fighting about?”

Before Esther could get wound up into speculation, Delora excused herself and walked along the back of the bar and down the cluttered hall to the employee washroom. There was a company phone there and she paused beside it. Hesitating only a brief moment, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and pushed a button.

“Bucky? Are you busy?”

“Never too busy for you.”

“Did you have a good day?”

“Good enough. Therapy in the morning. Phone conference in the afternoon.”

“Conference about what?”

“A new job. Horse racing game.”

“Which company?”

“Still TechGaming.”

“They’re coming out with a lot of new stuff. Asian Knight must have done well for them.” Not being a gamer herself, she often wondered how the first game Bucky designed had sold.

“Did well for me. Gave me more money than I can use. Need a loan?”

Delora laughed. Bucky always cheered her. “No. Don’t think so.”

“How’s things with you?”

“Not great. I’m really scared.”

“Why? What’s Louie doing?” Bucky’s breathing became more labored.

“Nothing really.” She rushed to reassure him. “It’s just indirect things. The other day I found a can of lighter fluid under his bed. I was changing the sheets and knocked it over.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah. Right there under the bed.”

“Did you tell him you found it?”

“No way. I talk to him as little as possible.”

“I thought he couldn’t…the trial…”

“That was a part of his release because I didn’t press charges, that he couldn’t have it in his possession. We’re supposed to light his cigarettes, for Pete’s sake.”

“Turn the bastard in,” he advised impatiently.

“No.”

“So, wonder what he was going to do with it.”

“What I want to know is, who the hell bought it for him? Rosalie? She knows better.”

“She should know better.” The sarcasm in his voice surprised Delora. “She probably did know better.”

“She is a bitch.”

“Yeah, and I know she has it in for you somehow.”

“Why would you think that?”

“The way she treats you. Making you work like a dog. Three jobs so you can pay that ridiculous rent for living in her house.” He was breathing hard from the exertion of speaking such long sentences.

“There’s nowhere else I can go,” Delora said quietly.

“Why do you say that?”

“You know why. Rosalie’s all the family I have.”

“Bullshit. She’s not your family, just someone the state gave you to.”

“There’s no way I could take care of Louie by myself. Rosalie’s bigger than I am and she can steady him. I can’t do it; I dropped him once.”

“You’re making excuses. You’ve got no business lifting anything. You were hurt too when your house burned.”

“I know.” Delora realized some time ago that she was taking the path of least resistance. The easy way. Though shamed by this fact, she felt powerless to change her life.

“Are you going to stay there forever?”

“No, of course not. I really do hate it.”

“No one can change that but you.”

“I know that,” she replied petulantly.

“Good.”

“Louie hid the remote the other day.”

“Why?”

“So he could give me grief. I looked for the damned thing for forty-five minutes and then suddenly he had it. I was so pissed.”

“He’s stupid. A brute.”

“Mmhm. All men are.”

“Are you sure?”

“Well, other than you, there’s one guy I know, nice as the day is long. You remember me telling you about Hinchey?”

“Sure. You sweet on him?”

“Oh no, he still is on me, though, wants me to marry him. Leave Louie.”

“You could do that. Divorce Louie and go with Hinchey.”

“You know I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be right.”

“If he loves you though, he would accept it.”

“He’s a young man. Deserves children and a wife who can be all he expects. You know what I mean.”

Bucky sighed. “I do.”

Delora answered with a hollow sigh of her own. “I’m going to go home now. I have to go in early tomorrow.”

“You be careful, now. I mean it. You watch that bastard Louie.”

“I will. Love you, Bucky.”

“Love you. Sleep, okay? Wait. Todd died. Did I tell you?”

“No, when?” Pain clutched at Delora’s chest. Todd Mays had been a patient with them at the burn center. Trapped in a house fire, he had been victim to a number of postevent infections that caused him to be a constant patient more than a year after the fire.

“Yesterday. His mom called me. They couldn’t get that last infection under control, then he got pneumonia.”

“I guess he just let go,” Delora whispered, one hand pressed against her lower belly as if confirming the life-force there.

“I’m sad,” Bucky Clyde said. “I wish I could talk to him again.”

“He called you as much as I do, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Bucky Clyde agreed softly.

“Are we gonna be all right, Bucky? Ever? It’s been two years and I don’t feel all right.”

Bucky Clyde didn’t reply right away, and Delora could picture him, indulging in his nervous-thinking gesture, fingering the bill of his ever-present baseball cap with his stubby three-fingered right hand. When he spoke, his voice was very clear, very strong.

“We’re forever changed, Delora. There’s no way we can forget that.”

Delora knew this to be true, but hearing him verify it grounded her anew. “I know, Bucky, I know.” She sighed deeply. “What are you going to do tomorrow?”

There was no need to talk about Todd’s funeral. Neither of them would go.

“Therapy, of course, then I get to play a new paintball game.”

“New game, cool.”

Bucky Clyde was hopelessly addicted to computer games, playing and designing. Paintball games, in which you had to outmaneuver and outstrategize your opponent, were his particular favorites.

“My mom sent it.”

“Oh, no way,” Delora exclaimed. “She contacted you? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Hopes. Don’t want to get them up—yours or mine.”

“But that’s great. How did she know you liked the paintball games?” Bucky Clyde’s mother was an alcoholic who really went off the deep end after Bucky Clyde’s car accident.

“Ron told her.”

“So she’s back talking to your brother too? What brought about her change of heart?”

“I guess getting older. Realizing how mortal we all are.”

“Has she stopped?”

“Drinking? No. I’m not sure she ever will. She sounded good the last couple times she called, though.”

“That’s a good sign.” She looked up and saw Esther studying the plates resting under the warmers. “Listen, Bucky, gotta run. I love you. I’m so, so sorry about Todd.”

“Me too. Love you. Take care of yourself. Watch him.”

Delora hung up and pressed her forehead to the phone’s hard plastic coolness. A hand that had crept low pressed against the gauze square covering the gash from her morning fall at the greenhouse. The pressure made the cut sting just a little more.

Chapter Seventeen

The knock, when it sounded, was later than expected, yet Beulah nodded her head. She’d been expecting someone all day but hadn’t figured it would come this late in the evening. Hell, it felt like it was almost tomorrow.

She knew the person would change all their lives and she was a little surprised when Sophie finally opened the door. What kind of special presence was this? A little old bedraggled girl, thin as a pipe stem. Yet she seemed powerful—as if she had a wildcat coiled inside waiting to expand at the least prompting. Beulah looked her up and down, trying to know something. She saw the woman was afraid, but fear had been mastered, pushed down, and the only thing left to shine was an attitude of “fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”

Sophie was barring the door, staring at the little woman as if dumbstruck. The little woman was staring back. Peering intently, Beulah could see the energy pulsing between them and smiled.
So this was the way of it
.

“Sophie, move yourself and let our visitor in.”

Sophie, chastened, stepped aside and dropped her eyes finally. “Please, come in,” she said, her voice subdued.

The woman moved inside slowly, eyes roaming the main room of the house. She didn’t seem afraid, just curious. Weren’t they all? Beulah thought tiredly.

“So what can we help you with?” she asked the little powerhouse.

“I hear you’re good with medicine and I got a problem.” The voice was strong, not meek, yet seemed tired as if she’d lived life and come out the other side.

Sophie stepped farther aside and stood by the bedroom door, her dark eyes studying the woman. Beulah noted her restlessness but ignored it. “You’d best tell us your name.”

“I’m Delora November. My homeplace was over on Cox’s Creek. You probably knew my daddy, Sherman Clark. He and my mama died in the big squall of ’82 when I was a kid.” She sighed, the litany finished.

Beulah nodded, the information digested. The girl was older than she’d thought, probably married.

“Sure, I knew of Sherman. My last husband said he was a good supervisor; best on the board. He left early because he didn’t like the way things were being handled by the other supervisors, it was said. Tried to make his own way,” Beulah responded.

Silence fell. In another world, the one of verandas, mint juleps and pretense, Beulah and Sophie would have listed their own pedigree but here, in the seething energy of the Alabama bayou, no trade was needed.

“So what is it? What does the house of Cofe need to do for you?”

Delora reminded Sophie of a rabbit transferring from one cage to another. She looked at the healer’s things scattered throughout the house—curiosity overcoming trepidation.

She’s got vinegar
, Sophie thought, hands coming up to tuck in errant strands of blond hair, then down to straighten her shirt.

Delora stopped when she reached the center of the front room. Hands hanging limp at her sides, she remained perfectly still, not exactly a convicted felon awaiting execution, but close enough to make Beulah seem uncomfortable. And, as was Beulah’s wont, she manifested her discomfort in petulant anger.

“Well, what is it?” she barked.

Delora jumped slightly, but her eyes, cold blue fire, fastened hard on Beulah.

“They say you know all about medicine, those women in town.”

Sophie pulled her loose collar closer about her neck, feeling a chill sweep through her cotton shirt.

“We know enough,” Beulah said. “Just tell us what you need and I’ll tell you whether it’s enough for you.”

The girl mulled it over for a long time, her gaze studying the yarbs and parts in jars along the walls.

Sophie tried to see the shelves with new eyes. She had built the shelves herself all in one afternoon. It had been the week the black-checkered loon had visited. He’d stayed three days, floating on the water just outside the door of Salamander House. He’d watched Sophie with his red, mocking eyes, head feathers high with death’s victory over life.

His low, mournful cry each evening had told them three times again about the death of Sophie’s daddy while he was working in Canton, Mississippi. Each shelf on the front room wall bore part of her daddy in it. The horizontal grain of the pale green locust told of his love for the railroad. The widely spaced knots were the cars of the toy trains he used to run every evening before going to bed. Each bracket was a harsh thought she’d brought to him when he punished her. The satiny finish of the boards, rubbed there by Sophie’s patience and spit, were the hopes and dreams he’d harbored for his Sophie.

“See, I had this accident a few years ago and was in the hospital for a while. It was all healed up, then this week I fell and it busted open again.”

Sophie moved across the room to set fire to a handful of candles. They had electric, but she preferred candlelight.

“Show me,” Beulah demanded.

Delora glanced briefly at Sophie, then loosened her blue jeans. She dropped them, then stepped aside and fetched them from the floor looking around for a ready spot to store them. She quickly chose Sophie’s easy chair, draping the garment across the padded arm. Then, surprising her hosts, she slid from her panties as well. She stood waiting, her face flushed with embarrassment yet her demeanor defensive.

No
, thought Sophie with dismay.
This gal’s had it done and done good. Was it just for the healing you sent her to us, Lord?
Selfish thoughts rattled inside her head, but she tried to shake them off before they became full-blown. Loneliness had a way of eating at a person until need instinctively ground out charitable thought.

Delora was waiting, stirring uncomfortably.

“Was it rape, child?” Beulah asked gently.

Delora shook her head.

Taking a deep breath, Sophie pulled one of the worn dining chairs closer to Beulah’s chair, then beckoned the woman to them. Delora moved forward reluctantly, her thin sandals scuffing against the floorboards.