Thoroughly 03 - Who Invited the Dead Man? (21 page)

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Authors: Patricia Sprinkle

BOOK: Thoroughly 03 - Who Invited the Dead Man?
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When I opened the barn door, Joe swooped down and landed on my head. Cricket danced and giggled. Lulu put her paws on my knees and griped noisily. Ridd stared in disbelief. Joe must have seen his resemblance to Joe Riddley, because he flew to his shoulder.
“Scat!” Ridd backed away, swatting air. “Get off me! Get off!”
“I wants him!” Cricket jumped up and down. Lulu leaped and yelped. Joe squawked. The yard dogs tuned up for a chorus.
I thought for a second about hightailing it to the house, locking the door, and going for a nap, but there are responsibilities never mentioned in the motherhood manual.
I reached up my arm. “Come here, Joe!”
For a wonder, he obeyed. He hopped onto my arm, and then back to the top of my head. Cricket shrieked with delight. Lulu started another aria.
“Put Lulu back in the pen and go on home,” I told Ridd. “Bring your daddy when he’s ready to come. And don’t ask any questions, just go!”
For a second wonder, Ridd obeyed me, too, without a word.
I took Joe to the lawnmower and nudged him until he hopped onto the handle. He perched on one foot like he’d lived there all his life. “I’ll get you some food,” I promised. I headed to the kitchen, figuring the dogs could hush when they were ready. They weren’t bothering anybody but me. “Just what the doctor ordered,” I muttered. “A day of quiet rest.”
When I bent to get a water bowl from the lower cabinet, my knees went off like little firecrackers. A voice spoke in my head, clear as could be.
You and Joe Riddley are ten years older than his parents were when they moved into town and gave you this house. You’re almost exactly the age Joe Riddley’s grand-parents were when they died and left the house to Joe Riddley’s daddy and his family—who had already been living with them for over ten years.
“People live longer these days,” I answered out loud, getting Joe some vegetables.
That’s no reason for standing in your children’s way. If Ridd and Martha lived here, they’d be near their fields. Bethany and Cricket would love having the pool and all this space to run around. And you know how Martha’s been wanting to adopt a couple of children with special needs. They can’t put any more children in the house they’ve got.
“I don’t have time to stand around here like Joan of Arc, listening to voices. I’ve got a bird to feed and water.” The voice didn’t reply, but I had a suspicion it was biding its time.
When I got the barn door opened, Joe huddled up on the far rafters, a splash of bright in the dimness. “Dinnertime,” I told him. I set the bowl down on a dusty shelf and held out my palm full of broccoli. He fixed me with a baleful eye and didn’t budge. “Then starve. I’ve done the best I can.” I put the food beside the water.
“Back off. Back off!”
“Gladly. See you later.”
I left him on the rafter, cheeks pink and tail feathers drooping. He shrieked behind me, “Good
morning,
Hiram! Good
morning,
Hiram!” It was almost enough to break my heart. But not enough to waken Hiram.
I heard a car on the road. Surely it wasn’t Ridd back already. When I saw Darren’s little yellow Beetle, I couldn’t help a groan of dismay.
“Hey!” he called, climbing out. He wore white shorts and a bright blue shirt. Alice sat beside him, in white shorts and a white top. “We’re going over to the high school track to run, but first we thought we’d come see how J. R.’s doing today.”
I knew darned well he just wanted to show me he’d gotten her to go out with him. Boys are the same in every generation. I hoped I could keep my eyes open long enough to speed them on their way. “He’s fine, but he’s over at our son’s. I was heading up for a nap.”
“We won’t keep you, then. Just wanted to say hello. You know Alice, don’t you?”
“Sure. Hey, Alice. How’re you doing?”
She gave me a little wave through the windshield. Neither of us mentioned we’d been drinking iced tea together earlier that day. Let Darren enjoy his triumph.
“Have fun.” I hoped my feet weren’t sending down roots where I stood. Another day, I’d have offered a piece of cake and some tea. Right now I wanted to stretch out and sleep for hours.
Alice opened her door. “Would you mind—could I—” She gave me a look women always recognize.
“Sure, honey. It’s right inside at the back of the hall. I’ll show you.”
I nearly had a heart attack, though, when she tripped just inside the kitchen door and grabbed at the closet doorknob to steady herself.
While she was in the bathroom, I sat at the kitchen table and looked at that door sourly. What was I going to do about that gun?
 
I was so deep in sleep I don’t know how long Joe Riddley was calling before I heard him. “Little Bit? Get down here right now! Little Bit! Did you hear me? Get on down here, now.”
Just as I was thinking maybe I ought to try to open my eyes and see if my legs could still function, a small sharp finger pried open one of my eyelids. “Me-mama? Pop wants you.”
I pushed away his hand and sighed. “So I hear.” I reached for my robe. As we clumped down the stairs, I felt so heavy and tired I made almost as much noise as he did.
“Little Bit!” Joe Riddley growled as I rounded the newel post of the landing. “Call Buster. Somebody’s stolen all my guns!”
He was sitting enthroned in his wheelchair, facing the stairs. Ridd, behind him, apologized. “I’m afraid Cricket let the cat out of the bag that they’re gone.”
Cricket plunged down the last few steps and went to press against his daddy’s leg, afraid he’d be punished. When Ridd cupped the small head in one hand, Cricket relaxed a little, but his brown eyes met mine anxiously.
I tied the belt on my robe and rubbed my eyes, hoping to persuade them to join me in waking up. “He’d have found out soon anyway,” I reassured Cricket.
“Where are those guns?” Joe Riddley demanded. “I need them to go hunting.”
I stifled a yawn. “I, uh—I sent them to be cleaned.”
“Nobody cleans my guns but me. You know that. Where’d you send them?”
I thought fast. If I told him Maynard had them, he’d find a way to demand that Maynard return them. If I lied—
I was tired of making up stories and pussyfooting around, treating Joe Riddley like he was no older than Cricket. I pulled the chair Gusta had used the day before so it faced him, and bent over so my hands rested on his knees. Leaning over so we were eye-to-eye, I said, “I’m not telling you where they are until you get better. I don’t want you accidentally hurting yourself or somebody else.”
He gave a huff of disgust. “I’m not going to hurt anybody, and you know it. I want those guns back and I want them now!” He pounded the arm of his wheelchair. “You hear me, Little Bit? I want those guns back
right now
!”
I covered my ears with my hands. “Don’t you shout at me! You’re not getting those guns until you are well.”
“I am well. I just can’t walk. There’s nothing wrong with my aim.”
The old Joe Riddley was as calm as a barn owl on a dark night. It was me who got excited and raised my voice. Having him yell at me now enraged me.
“There’s something wrong with your
head
! Going out in the backyard stark naked at three a.m. to practice shooting the side of the barn. Who knows what you might have hit? Or who? You even aimed that gun at me. Don’t tell me how well you are!” All my anger gathered in one big cloud and burst in a torrent of tears. Heaving with sobs, I didn’t even try to stop the words pouring out. “You scared me to death last night. I don’t ever want to go through that again. You’re not getting those guns back until I say so.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cricket pressing his face into his daddy’s leg. Ridd put one hand on Joe Riddley’s shoulder. “Mama’s trying to protect you, Daddy.”
Joe Riddley smacked him away. “I don’t need protecting. Get off my property. You hear me? Get off and don’t come back. I don’t need you telling me what to do, or your mother stealing my things.” When Ridd didn’t move, he shouted, “You hear what I said, boy? Get out. Now! I never want to see your ugly face again.”
Ridd threw me an anxious look. I shoved my chair away from his daddy’s and flapped one hand at him. “Go on home,” I said wearily. “You know he doesn’t mean it.”
“I damn well do mean it, and I mean it now!” Joe Riddley seized one wheel of his chair and jerked it. “Get!” Ridd had to jump back to avoid being hit by the whirling footrests.
“You not ’posed to say dat word, Pop,” Cricket admonished in a scared little voice. “Dat’s a bad word.”
I couldn’t bear for Joe Riddley to swear at Cricket. “Go home, Ridd,” I said quickly, though tears nearly choked me. “Go home and take Cricket. I can deal with this. Go!”
Ridd pushed Cricket ahead of him down the hall. We heard Cricket start to ask, “Is Pop—” and heard Ridd reply before he’d even finished, “He’s real sick, honey.” The kitchen door slammed. In a minute Martha’s car started and headed down our drive.
They’d brought the car because Joe Riddley wasn’t up to climbing up into the truck yet. Joe Riddley wasn’t up to so many things. . . .
I looked his way, braced for another tirade. Instead, he sat with his head bent and hands clasped in his lap. Tears fell from his eyes onto the backs of his large dear hands. With difficulty, he formed the sentences in phrases, with pauses in between. “I’m not good . . . for nothin’. Might as well . . . take me . . . out back . . . and shoot me.” His whole body heaved with sobs.
Tears streamed down my own cheeks and fell warm onto the backs of my hands. I knelt by his chair and reached out one wet hand to cover his. We sat in the dimness and sobbed together.
17
Sheriff Gibbons didn’t come back that night to open the closet, for which I was grateful.
I didn’t sleep well, but at least Joe Riddley woke as if he didn’t remember anything about the day before except one. “Where’s Joe?” he demanded as soon as he plodded into the kitchen.
“In the barn where he belongs.”
“Go get him. I want Joe.” He pushed his walker to the table and sat down, waiting.
Half an hour later, Clarinda surveyed the ruin Joe had made of her old blue sweater and tightened her lips. “Mmm-mmm mmm. I ain’t cleaning up after no parrot.”
“Me, neither,” I agreed. “He’s going to stay in the barn until we get rid of him.”
At that very minute, Joe was sitting on Joe Riddley’s shoulder at the breakfast table, sharing his toast and tiny bits of bacon. Clarinda was sweeping up oatmeal where Joe had knocked over the box. I was scrubbing parrot doo off the faucets.
“You got any other sweater I can use?” Clarinda moved toward the kitchen closet.
“Not in there!” I spoke so emphatically I startled us both. “I forgot where I put the key.”
“In your pocketbook.” She started to hand it to me from the counter.
“It’s not there,” I assured her. “I mislaid it.” Mislaid it in my skirt pocket, where nobody would get it except over my dead body. “I’ll find you another sweater upstairs.”
Joe Riddley reached for his new red cap and put it on. Joe pecked the red bill joyfully. “Good morning, Hiram!”
“Where is Hiram?” Joe Riddley looked around like the man had left a minute before.
Clarinda and I exchanged a glance. “He’s gone away for a while,” she explained.
“And we’re keeping the bird until Hector comes for him,” I added.
“Or hell freezes over.” Clarinda turned to her dishpan and started running hot water.
When we were finally ready to leave for physical therapy, the danged parrot refused to let me take him to the barn. “Take him with us. He’s no trouble.” Joe Riddley ran one long finger down Joe’s rainbow back. Joe nibbled his ear. “I won’t go without him.”
“Go away! Go away!” Joe squawked at me.
“Great. Now instead of folks talking about crazy Hiram with his parrot, they can talk about the crazy Yarbroughs.” But I didn’t really care what people thought. People could say what they liked, so long as stroking Joe brought that look of quiet satisfaction to Joe Riddley’s face. When I helped them both into Joe Riddley’s big gray Towncar, Joe obligingly hopped down onto Joe Riddley’s thigh for the ride.
Joe Riddley’s smile widened to a grin. “Crazy Yarbroughs. Can you say that, boy? What all can you say? Hello, hello, hello?” I had never seen Joe Riddley so animated since he got shot. When Joe repeated “Hello, hello,” Joe Riddley threw back his head and laughed like he used to.
While we slowly made our way into the physical therapy center and toward Darren’s daffodil hair, I called to make sure nobody thought the bird was my idea. “Joe Riddley wouldn’t leave the parrot home, and barring surgery, I don’t know how we can separate them. We’re just keeping him for a few days.”
“I don’t mind him.” Darren’s dark eyes sparkled. “And if somebody asks, we’ll say, ‘Parrot? What parrot?’ Come on, J. R. You showed everybody Saturday how well you can walk. Today you’re gonna walk the whole length of the parallel bars. Ready for that?”

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