Operation Wolfe Cub: A Chilling Historical Thriller (THE TIME TO TELL Book 1) (25 page)

He mustered words of praise. “You look pretty tonight. I may not have much, but I love you more than all the men and money in the world and—”

“
Ah
, Eddie. We’ve been through this before.”

“I know…I know you’ve heard me before. I can’t say it enough. It’s just that I don’t want to lose you. I’d not only be embarrassed around town, but—”

Chantain crossed her arms, squeezing herself. “You’re pulling that jack-of-hearts again, aren’t you?”

“No! I mean—no. Look at me, will you? I’m as honest as you are beautiful. You got me wrong.

I’m straightforward, I admit, but it’s for the best. I can’t hide my feelings. I just can’t.”

Chantain desperately wanted to find something to do, so she opened the drawer next to her just to poke around in it. “Well, I’m not falling for it again if that’s what you think.”

Eddie gestured with an open hand. “Okay, maybe you’re strong…you want me to say that? I will. I’ll do anything. I keep handing you my heart, and you keep…I mean you keep getting stronger while I—I—oh, never mind.”

Chantain stopped what she was doing. “You—you what? Might as well finish what you’re saying.”

“Okay, I will. You keep getting stronger while I wither away…I—I mean, look at you, Chantain.”

Suddenly she found a fingernail file in the drawer, so she picked it up and began filing her nails with great interest. “
Huh
? Look at me. What?”

“You’ve changed.”

She carried on, “Now it sounds like you’re picking on me. I think
you’re
the paranoid one, not me.”

“Paranoid? Oh my God, Chantain.”

“Look, your cane doesn’t bother me. Get it out of your mind if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Eddie looked at his cane as if it was the farthest thing from his mind. He dropped it to the floor. “Okay, it’s gone… there…I don’t care about it, can’t you see?”

“
Hmmmph
, that didn’t do any good. You should pick it up, really. Go around and hurt yourself is what you’re going to do.”

Eddie strained. “Look…you said you wanted to have a child, I remember. You know, the children we talked about? Do you remember any of that anymore?”

Chantain sighed briefly, then switched to work the fingernails on her other hand. “Yes, of course. You’re the one who
should be reminded. You got shot down there. You know, injured?”

Eddie bent down to pick up his cane. As he slowly stood up again, he looked as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Carefully, he sat back down at the table. “There are other ways, sweetheart…come on. Where do we go from here?”

“Nowhere—I guess.”

“Look, Chantain, honey…we can’t…can we at least talk about it? I mean—”

“I think you’ve said enough. As far as I’m concerned, this conversation’s over. I can’t really hear about your and my problems anymore tonight.” Chantain then turned her attention somewhere else. She darted around the kitchen as if Eddie wasn’t even there.

All the while, Eddie tried to gaze into her eyes, but soon gave up. Looking straight at the wall seemed to do after that. Eventually he took her silence as a sign to leave. After a couple of ill attempts at getting up from the table, he finally succeeded. Slowly, he hobbled into the hallway, but before he left her sight completely, he stopped. “Are you sure you don’t want to go with me tomorrow? We can pack a lunch. A mile hike’s all it is.”

Chantain quickly replied, “No, I said…besides, it’s foolish on that leg of yours. I’ve got things to do.”

Eddie turned to face the dark side of the hallway. “Oh? What things?”

“I’m going to town—to meet some members of our new church.” She paused a moment before speaking quickly. “Thanks for reminding me. I need the keys to the Pribil.
²⁹
May I have them?”

Eddie hobbled up close to her, taking his time reaching into his pocket. He then handed them over carefully, but before he gave them up, he held them away from her grasp. “I know it’s foolish on my leg. I thought if I worked—or hiked around, things’d get better.”

“Keys please?”

“You know what I mean? Things can—or might heal.”

“That’s ridiculous, Eddie.” Chantain quickly took the keys from his hand. “Oh, may I have ten dollars for gas and groceries? We have to eat.”

Eddie reached into his other pocket, pulling out a small fold of bills. As he pulled out a ten, he tried to get closer to her. “I got my disability check cashed a day early. How’d you know?”

She took his ten but kept looking at his small fold of bills. “While we’re at it, you may as well give me forty-five more. I’ll pay the landlord while I’m in town.”

Eddie slowly counted it out. “There now…you think if we had a kid, do you think things would be different?”

Chantain licked her thumb, double counting the money herself as fast as a bank teller. When she was done, she backed away, stuffing the money in her pocket “I don’t know. I—I can’t think right now, all right?”

Suddenly the storm’s lightning outside intruded through the windows, interrupting Eddie. “Wow, it’s really getting with it out there.” He took a deep breath and then sat down at the table instead of heading off to bed as he’d planned to do. With a seemingly new perspective, he carefully positioned himself as he watched Chantain scuttling back and forth from counter to counter, putting things away.

His suspicions got the best of him, so he said flat out, “Are you trying to stay busy? Is that what it is?”

“No, I’m just working…that’s all.”

Chantain suddenly changed her tune. “Okay, let’s talk about it then. I’m no different than you are, except you don’t have to think about children—I do.”

“Chantain, you don’t have to go getting mad about—”

She went on, “You wouldn’t know about birthing a child. You’d fall over and die if that happened.”

Eddie let out a hard long breath, “I’d die?
Whew
, you know…one of these days.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You women…one of these days, you’re gonna figure out how to stick the plug on babies.”

“What did you say?”

“You watch. You heard me. It’ll happen.”

“Well, I never…since you brought it up so crudely, it sounds good to me. By the way that’s
pulling
the plug. Not
sticking
in the plug. Only a man would say that.”

Eddie started fiddling with his wedding ring again. “Sticking—pulling. What difference does it make? That’ll be the day we all change…the men too. All hell’s going to break loose.”

“Good, because men don’t want to be responsible. Why should we?”

“You didn’t hear me. That’s exactly what I mean!”

“I don’t have to hear, Eddie. You’re coming in loud and clear. We’d have the same things you men have. Of course, you men wouldn’t want that now, would you?”

Eddie frowned. “It works both ways, dear.”

“No, it doesn’t. What’s your idea? Lock us up in the home while you men run free? That’s slavery, if you ask me.”

“So that’s what you think. We’re the masters, and you’re the slaves?” He then muttered to himself, “Can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

“Look, Eddie, why don’t you go to bed like you were going to do; quit your nonsense. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I’d heard this shit from you before.”

Eddie bounced up from the table. “There you go saying ‘shit’ again, like some rotten guy. So you want to become part
of the irresponsible, nasty clan of men? Get on with it then. I’m done after saying what I said…see what I care.”

“You called your own kind that, not me.”

He went on, getting angrier. “Hell, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, right? You heard this same shit? What the
shit
? Pardon me while I go take me a
shit
before I go to bed… goooood night!”

Chantain stood there, waiting for him to come back around the corner, and sure enough, he did.

He pointed straight at her face. “Think what you want… you women won’t need us men someday.”

Chantain shrugged her shoulders sarcastically. “Why would you think we need men in the first place?”

He glared, slowing down his conversation. “You watch… you’ll be nothing but a bunch of black widows.”

“Good God…that sounds real romantic.”

Eddie kept glaring “No, you watch…mark my word, mark—my—word.”

Chantain abruptly turned around and stomped her heel. “Shut up! Men can go out and
screw
anyone they want while all we do is stay stuck at home…youuuu, you have—no idea.”

Eddie hardly blinked. “Oh, yes I do. Women are all that’s left to control what’s good in this world…terrible to think about, isn’t it?”

Chantain started getting busy again. “That’s not what the Bible says…I’m ignoring you now. Do us both a favor and go to bed.”

“Who cares if it’s in the Bible or not? That’s what I think.”

He stepped back into the light of the kitchen. “You don’t believe me, do you? I can tell. I can tell by the way you prance around…women have
all
the power they need—right in the palm of their hand. They couldn’t see it if they tried.”

Chantain whipped around, glaring at him. “Go ahead. Stare at me. I see what you’re thinking.”

He went on, “Hungry blaaack widowwws…that’s all we have to look forward to.”

Quickly, Chantain reached for her pack of cigarettes. “Yeah, well, men run around being a bunch of sex gods while we stay at home watching it all happen.”

She began shutting him down, switching the rest of the kitchen lights off one by one. When she finally reached for the last, low-hung lamp above the kitchen table, Eddie jumped from across the other side, blocking her arm before she could yank the chain.

The old, dim paper-stained lampshade barely swung between them. Above the low-hung light was the darkened ceiling; the only thing that could have disconnected their glares. When the light shade finally settled down, the two of them slowly stood up straight into the shadows above the light.

Obviously, they were livid with one another. Their standoff kept on silently, even though thunder and lightning continued outside uncontrollably. Eddie was the one to give in first, letting his glare fall to the floor. Quite honestly, he looked wilted from guilt. He backed away from the table and then kept backing out of the kitchen until he backed completely into the hallway against the wall.

As lightning kept flickering through the windows, he slowly looked back up at the picture of Jesus hanging by the clock, ticking away. “Sex gods? You think a man dreamt up that painting? A woman painted that sexy Christ picture, I kid you not…sex gods, my ass.”

Chantain drew a wretched smile as she slowly followed his eyes over to the picture too. “
Hu
…I always did have a problem with that picture. They’re all over, everywhere. You want to hear how pathetic you are?” Lightning struck, lighting up the kitchen as she continued. “Why was Jesus a
man
in the first place?
Hmmm
? Tell me that.”

Eddie stepped back into the shadows of the hallway, looking to the floor. After that, he silently hobbled out of her sight.

Chantain kept watching for him to return to the kitchen for a third time, but he didn’t.

Just then, the weather outside seemed to have its way. The only light left on in the house at the kitchen table flickered for a while before going out entirely.

Chantain didn’t care about the power outage. She sat down in the dark, with little intention of leaving the kitchen. She lit a stubby, white candle she’d found in a drawer, placed it on a saucer, then sat it down in front of herself on the table to watch it burn. Through its dim flicker, with the sound of pelting rain outside, she slowly broke down in tears.

For some inexplicable reason in the seconds that followed, she abruptly replaced her sorrow with anger as she wiped her last tear away. Something inside of her was definitely turning her thoughts around. Immediately, she got up, retrieving her pack of cigarettes, along with her rather odd-looking ashtray. It was a cute, brass ashtray with a tiny statue of a Scotty dog sitting just on its edge. She sat back down, lit up her smoke and gently brushed the little doggy’s head with her thumb. The little dog was only a few inches tall, with a head barely the size of a thimble.

She was thinking way too deeply and probably more than she should have. Peace of mind was what she was looking for. All of it was there—warmth, her cigarette, and even the artwork of her ashtray was playing their part to help her wind down.

She kept petting the little Scotty dog as if it were her real, loving pet, even though it represented the ever-popular, nationwide symbol of President Roosevelt’s own loving dog.

Soon, her other moods revealed themselves through the candlelight shining up on her beautiful face. She moved her anger aside, then she showed a callused grin. Silent thoughts
circulated through her mind, causing her to huff a time or two, but then she swiftly drew down on the candle with a stone-cold look. She blinked over and over again, staring into the candle, even though it didn’t do her much good anymore. Her cigarette had burned almost completely down without her smoking it, so she took a last drag and then smashed it on top of the little Scotty dog’s head. She then picked up her candle to guide herself to the living room sofa. Earlier, she’d set a tidy set of blankets and pillow where she intended to sleep. After softly laying herself down without undressing, she blew her candle out and went to sleep.

Chapter 8

Early the next morning, the sun, in all its life-giving glory, tried to peep through the clouds above the town of Devil’s, except it just couldn’t quite make it. The clouds didn’t seem to want to go away anytime soon. The sporadic gleams offered by the sunshine and the still, quiet morning after the storm marked the time for the majority of living things to get an early-morning start.

In front of the quiet Coolidge house, a single eastern kingbird sang a lonesome song just outside the gravel parking area. The old pine tree where the bird sat had fallen victim to Hurricane Vicky’s wrath.

Another eastern kingbird soon flew into the fallen tree to accompany the lonesome singer. Soon after, both birds sang together to a different tune, sounding a little sweeter than before. The little two-bird band kept it up until their cheerful song brought the first early promise of day to the entire forest nearby.