The Ex Who Wouldn't Die (21 page)

The next day, over Charley's continued protests, Amanda
packed her saddlebags and prepared her ten-year old Harley Softail for the journey. The
burgundy
red
bike wasn't as fast as the one she'd wrecked, but it wo
uld be a lot more comfortable for
her recently injured body.

She
pulled out of her parking lot with Charley
running after her, demanding she stay in Dallas.
Perhaps he
believe
d
his own stories about her impending doom at the hands of Mayor Kimball.
Or perhaps he just didn't want to share his family with her.

A
couple of times as she rode along the highway toward Silver Creek, she thought she caught a glimpse of Charley in the rearview mirror, riding behind her on the passenger seat. That wouldn't surprise her.

The hour ride gave her
plenty of time to mull over her parents'
concerns
about the trip as well as
a growing
trepidation about how she'd get through the next two days with strangers
and
a funeral. Irene had made all the arrangements. Tomorrow would be the "viewing and visitation," then the next day there'd be traditional funeral s
ervices at the
Methodist Church
,
followed by a graveside service at the Silver Creek Cemetery.

Amanda wasn't looking forward to any of those events. Her only consolation was that, if Charley
was riding along with her,
he'd hate being back in his hometown, and he'd hate all the traditional ceremonies over his body.

It was late afternoon when she roared through the picturesque streets of Silver Creek.
The town was small, quiet and clean. Rural America at its best.

A couple of teen-age boys turned to watch the bike and wave. Amanda waved back.

The Randolphs
'
big old farm house was a couple of miles outside of town, down a tree-lined, rutted dirt road that made Amanda glad she was on the softer-riding bike. Several pick-up trucks and a couple of older
model sedans were scattered around
the front yard among the trees that shaded the house. 

She eased over the dirt and clumps of grass into a spot between the two cars, put down her quick
stand and pulled off her helmet.

"God, Amanda, you ride like a maniac!" Charley protested. "
No wonder you get so many speeding tickets.
Uh, oh
! Here comes the family! I'
m outta here
!"

The screen door burst open and two identical blond girls in cut-offs and pony tails rushed across the porch toward Amanda. Irene appeared behind them, wiping her hands on her apron and smiling.

The girls rushed up, surrounding her even though there were only two of them. "What a cool bike! I'm Paula!"

"I'm Penny. Can we ride?"

"You can't ride a motorcycle!"

"I gotta learn sometime!"

"We made pies!"

"Girls, girls! Let your sister get settled before you talk her to death!" Irene walked up and hugged Amanda. "Come on in and meet the family. Paula, Penny, take Amanda's bags to her room." She indicated the saddlebags.

"I can do that," Amanda protested.

"No, let us!"

Amanda smiled, shrugged and
allowed
Irene
to
lead her into the house. In that moment she knew she'd made the right decision in coming.

The
old house
was filled with food and relatives. B
oth continued to stream in
until Amanda thought the house would burst from people, and the big wooden table would collapse from food. Irene had killed "a mean old rooster who's just been begging to get hisself into the pot" and made dumplings. That rooster might have been mean, but he certainly tasted good.

Herbert, Charley's father, a tall, quiet man who looked a little like Charley but acted nothing like him, contributed a platter of his specialty, venison sausage. "Killed that deer myself. That meat doesn't have any of those hormones and stuff you find at the grocery store."

Paula…or maybe it was Penny…had made a thick apple pie with lots of cinnamon and butter, and the other twin, a buttermilk chess pie. The two animated blond girls watched and giggled as Amanda ate a piece of each pie then proclaimed that both were so good, she couldn't possibly say which was better.

Early on in the evening Amanda gave up trying to keep track of names and relationships. She just smiled and ate, accepted condolences and well wishes, listened to general conversation about Charley, admired pictures of kids and grandkids, smiled when she was introduced as "Aunt Amanda" to Charley's nieces and nephews, and let herself pretend for the evening that she was part of this sprawling, boisterous family.

Two leaves had been added to the scarred pine table in the kitchen, and the surface was covered with food. The menu had no structure. Fried chicken sat next to pork chops. Pinto beans, baked beans and lima beans were
all
among the offerings. The food was served on platters, in bowls and in pans. Irene's china was comprised of at least five different patterns, some of it chipped. People heaped food onto their plates in delightful chaos and wandered around, eating and talking. It was totally wonderful.
Her mother would have fainted had she been there.

At the end of the evening, after everyone, including Amanda, pitched in to clean up, all the visitors finally left,
and
Irene and the twins led Amanda upstairs to the third bedroom on the left. Charley's old room.

"There's a fan on the dresser if you get hot, and a quilt in the closet if you get cold. Bathroom's at the end of the hall."

"We're right next door if you need anything," Paula assured her.

"And we won't be asleep for a long time," Penny added, then giggled at her mother's stern glance.

After another round of hugs, Amanda closed the door and looked around Charley's old room. It was the most comfortable room she'd ever seen, the complete opposite of the horrible stories Charley had told.

The iron bedframe, painted
brown, was more ornate than the one she owned
and, she suspected, had probably been in the family for generations
rather than purchased at garage sale
. The flowered bedspread had likely been added after Charley left. She couldn't see him choosing such a spread. A small, scarred wooden desk and chair sat by the window. A place for Charley to do his school work. As Irene had said, a fan rested on the antique dresser, its cord dangling to the wooden floor.

She turned off the light and, in the soft moonlight
,
changed into her nightshirt and settled into Charley's old bed. The summer breeze coming through the open window brought the clean smells of trees and the sounds of crickets and night birds. This was the most relaxed she'd felt since Charley died.
No fear of cops with arrest warrants, no drunks taking a leak on her property, no Charley freaking out about Kimball.

"Amanda, what are you
doing here?"

Amanda squeezed her eyes tightly shut and pulled the sheet over her head.

"Stop doing that. Don't pretend you didn't hear me. Get up and talk to me."

"Go away."

"
You
need to go away, back home, get out of Silver Creek."

Amanda rolled onto her back and threw the sheet away from her face. "Why, Charley? It's too late. I already know all the lies you told me.
A sofa in the living room while your mother
turned tricks and took drugs
in the only bedroom?
Shame on you, Charley Randolph! You had a wonderful home life. Your family's wonderful! How could you make up all those lies about them?"

In the moonlight Charley, glowing luminescent and faintly
transparent, flinched
. "Okay, maybe I embellished a little."

Amanda sat upright in bed. "
Embellished a little?
You slandered these nice people who loved you and raised you! You lied! You said horrible things about them! Why did you do that, Charley? That served no purpose, even in your scams! Certainly it served no purpose in our relationship!"

Charley sighed. "If you'd known about my family, you'd have wanted to meet them. You'd have wanted to come here."

"Duh!"

He shook his head. "You can't be here."

"Why not? What does it hurt if I'm with your family?"

An odd expression flashed across Charley's face, one she hadn't seen there before. It was gone so fast, she couldn't be certain, but it looked suspiciously like guilt and remorse.

Amanda groaned and fell back onto the bed. "Are you going to start on the Kimball thing again?"

Charley looked at her intently, and she thought for a moment he was going to say something important. But then he nodded. "Yes, you're in danger from Kimball. He killed that woman and he killed me. What's one more body when you're on a roll?
At least in Dallas he had to make an effort to get to you, but now you've walked right into his hands!
And by coming down here, it's like you're throwing it in his face that you
know about him!
"

"I don't know anything. All of a sudden I'm supposed to believe everything you tell me when you've lied to me as long as I've known you?"

"I told you I can't lie anymore."

"And I'm supposed to believe you're telling the truth about that?"

"Amanda, Kimball tried to kill you once. You're in danger. You want to end up like me? Dead?"

"Definitely I do not want to end up like you." If she died, would she have to travel around with Charley? Did they have divorce where Charley was? Would she be stuck with him through eternity? That was a far wor
se vision of hell than Dante's
I
nferno
.
"Go away, Charley.
"

"I've been left behind to take care of you. I'm sure of that now."

"You're nuts. You were nuts when you were alive, and dying hasn't improved
your sanity
. If you want to take care of me, disappear forever. Leave me alone. Let me enjoy your family, put your lying, cheating body in the ground and go back home."

"I can't disappear. You need me."

"Fine. Don't disappear. Go sit in the corner. Just shut up so I can sleep. And don't go downstairs and turn on the television. If you're bored, well, that's just too bad. It's your punishment for all the terrible things you did during your life. Karma."