Two for Flinching (13 page)

The ushers came to the front and proceeded to
pass the plate. One of the ushers gave me a look. Sarah exclaimed,
“G-Pop!”

He smiled and gave her a sly wink.

“Honey.” I leaned down to whisper in her ear.
“This is like the library. We have to be quiet.”

“You turned off your phone?”

“Yes, baby.”

The sermon was more entertaining than when I
was a kid. Or maybe I wasn’t so concerned with playing ball or
trying to sneak a look up Hannah’s skirt. Tonya’s legs, though,
were very nice. The message was about Ruth and how she had stood by
her mother-in-law. No doubt, that would take a special woman. Sarah
fidgeted until Tonya gave her a pen and she began scribbling on the
bulletins.

The invitation came and a handful of people
went to the altar to pray. My opinion of my mother-in-law hadn’t
changed so I stayed in place. The preacher closed with a final
prayer and released us—until evening services.

“You coming for lunch?”

“Tonya cooking?”

“You kidding me? We’re picking up a bucket of
chicken.”

Sarah tore off through the church, Sonny and
Grace chasing after. I bent down to pick up her masterpiece. “That,
I can do.”

***

“Hello.”

“It didn’t work.”

“Melvin?”

“Yeah. It didn’t work.”

“What didn’t work?”

“I sent her flowers and a love letter and
gave her some time. She still won’t talk to me.”

“When did you send the flowers?”

“Friday.”

“It’s only been a couple of days. You—“

“She refuses to take my calls.”

“—have to give her more time.”

“I can’t go on like this.”

“You’ve put her through a lot. You gotta give
her a chance to sort it all out.”

“You think it will work?”

“Maybe.”

“I can’t get a divorce, Beason. I can’t live
without her.”

***

“Daddy! I didn’t want to leave!”

“You told me, honey. About a million
times.”

“I was having fun.”

“We stayed for two hours.”

“Why didn’t we stay for a hundred hours?”

“Because, baby, daddy has a surprise for
you.”

“What?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a
surprise.”

I checked her in the rearview. Sarah had on
her serious face, her negotiating face. So much like her
mother.

“We could pretend.”

“Pretend what?”

“Pretend you didn’t tell me and it would
still be a surprise.”

I laughed. There had always been something
special about Sunday afternoons. I knew it had to be mental, but
the day even looked different. High clouds among the blue sky, the
temperature gradually dropping. A day set aside for family, a day
to kick back and watch football games you didn’t care about as the
children played. A day I had ignored for too long.

I pulled off the highway into a solid middle
class neighborhood, the kind of neighborhood factory workers moved
into thirty years ago and settled in happily for the rest of their
lives. Brick ranch after brick ranch. Well kept yards. Dogs and
kids playing in the street. A life Stella never would have been
contented with.

I turned into a driveway not unlike the
others and killed the motor. “We’re here.”

“MeeMaw’s house? Yea!” She fumbled with the
belt and I walked around the Jeep to help her from the car seat.
Sarah ran across the yard to the front door. For once, I had the
foresight to pack play clothes, a miniature sweat suit, so I
wouldn’t have to stay on her about keeping clean.

The door opened, joy and shock filling my
mother-in-law’s face. She bent down and hugged Sarah tight. Sarah
slipped past her into the house, squealing as she went.

“What’s the occasion, Beason?”

“Call it a peace offering.”

Felicia eyed me warily, awaiting further
explanation.

“I need to talk to you about Stella.”

Felicia stepped onto the porch, pulling the
door shut behind her. “Stella? What about her? Have you heard from
her?”

“No. I’m looking for her.”

The suspicion remained, hardened even. “Why
now? After all these years?”

“Because Sarah asked me to.”

She nodded, accepting it.

I took a deep breath. “Do you know where she
is?”

Felicia crossed her arms. There was little of
her that she passed on to her daughter. Deep lines, an unhappy
face, the same green eyes and blond hair. Maybe she had given her
more than I had given her credit for. Stella could have turned into
this woman in thirty years. “I told you I didn’t know where she
went.”

“Yes,” I said. “You did.”

She thought about it. “You don’t believe
me.”

“No, I didn’t. Now, I’m not so sure.”

“Why now? What’s changed?”

“Because I’ve started looking for her and I
haven’t found a trace. And I’m good at what I do.”

“Why would I lie to you? For so long?”

I shrugged. “I wouldn’t call it a lie. I just
figured Stella told you to keep me in the dark. That she didn’t
want me to find her.”

“I don’t know where she is.”

“Do you know where she went?”

“Of course not.”

“Look, Felicia, if she doesn’t want us to
know, I can live with that. I have lived with that—for four years.
I only need something I can tell my daughter.
Her
daughter.”

She shook her head. “I haven’t talked to her
since the day she disappeared.”

I cocked an eyebrow. This was news to me.
“You talked to her that day?”

“On the phone. She was on her way to work.
She said nothing like a long goodbye. Only that she was planning on
having lunch with a…friend.”

The bitterness I had kept down overflowed me.
“Like mother, like daughter.”

Before she could reply, the door opened, a
graying hunched over man holding the knob. “Beason.”

“Orrin.”

“Sarah wants ice cream. Is that okay?”

“Sure.”

He started to close the door, sensed the
tension between his wife and I. “What’s going on?”

“Beason is looking for Stella.”

“About time,” Orrin muttered.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Felicia was telling me about her daughter’s
affair.”

Orrin stiffened. “No need for all that.”

“There is if I want to find her.”

“Beason thinks I may be responsible for her
leaving him.”

“How could you possibly be responsible?”

“Because Stella learned at the feet of the
master.” The heat filled me, anger I had buried for so long
bursting free. Anger at Stella—and her parents. “Because she
watched her mother cheat on her father for years and thought that
was the way the world was supposed to work.”

“Beason—“

“You’re not blameless here either, dad. You
put up with it instead of taking a stand.”

“Is that right?” Orrin’s shoulders arched
back, fire in his eyes. In all the years I had known him, I had
only seen the meek, weak, side of him. “And how does that make us
different?”

“When I found out,” I said through gritted
teeth, “I confronted her.”

“What did you do, Beason? Did you file for
divorce? Threaten to move out? Nothing,” he spat, “you did
nothing.”

“I had a daughter to raise.”

“And I didn’t?”

I pointed a finger at his chest. “You put up
with it for years.”

He smiled, a nasty, ugly smile. “And you
didn’t?”

“What?”

“You spent all that time traveling the world
playing soldier, didn’t you wonder where your wife would go for
fun? For comfort? For companionship? And then you come back and
turn a blind eye. You
knew
she was still stepping out.” He
stopped, looking at his wife. “A husband always knows.”

The righteous indignation drained away. It
hurt to admit that he was right, that I had known all along. I
never questioned her lame excuses, obviously false alibis,
mysterious late nights working. The suspicious phone calls. And I
let her get away with it because I didn’t want to lose her—until
the day before she left, when it had to practically slap me upside
the head to get my attention.

“We’re a lot more alike than you think.”

***

I left Sarah with her grandparents,
promising to return in a couple of hours, and drove away—ran
away—the truth tearing at my soul. All those years I had spent
feeling superior to meek, weak Orrin Maynard, taking whatever his
wife decided to dish out. While I pretended to be the perfect
husband. I took it, that truth, and did the only thing I knew how
to do. What I had always done. I buried it.

I went across town, turning into a
neighborhood much like the Maynard’s. Maybe fifteen years newer,
brick ranches, but also some split-levels, two story homes
scattered in. A few kids and fewer dogs. I pulled into the driveway
of a beige brick home, a little smaller than the others. Three bed,
two baths, a combo living room/dining room. Wild onions had taken
over the yard, sprouting amongst the brown lawn, thick hedges in
desperate need of clipping.

I rang the bell and a few moments later it
was swung open by a short woman in jeans and a sweater. She didn’t
seem surprised to see me. “Beason.”

“Hey, Maggie.” She had put on weight since I
had last seen her. “How you doing?”

Margaret Shipley shrugged. “I’m getting by.
Want to come in?”

“The boys home?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe we should talk out here.”

She nodded and stepped out on the porch. Her
feet bare, but she didn’t seem to notice the cold concrete. “Have
you heard something?” she asked, hesitation in her voice. And
something deeper. Dread, fear.

I shook my head. “I was hoping you had.”

“Not in four years. Not a phone call or even
a birthday card.”

“I’m sorry.”

Maggie chewed her bottom lip. “I still don’t
see how he could do that. How
they
could do that. Just walk
away as if none of us ever existed.”

“I know.”

“Selfish, but I never expected him to be that
selfish. He could always be a prick.”

I kept the smile from my face. Barely. “I
know.”

“Are you looking for them?”

“Stella, though, they may still be
together.”

“I doubt it.”

“So do I.”

“Why are you looking now?”

“My daughter is growing up. She’s asking
questions.”

She nodded. “It must be hard.”

“No harder than on you.”

She wrapped her arms across her chest,
hugging herself. “I’m not sure. At least they are old enough to
remember their father.”

“That might make it worse.”

“It might.”

We stood on the porch, looking out into the
street, sharing our unique pain.

“Has anything…come up?”

“No. One day he kissed me as he left for work
and never came back. Never gave me a note or took the time to
explain anything. But he had time to empty the checking account on
his way out of town.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“Stella left twelve hundred and four
dollars.”

“I don’t expect it did you much good.”

“No. How much did he take?”

“Twenty-eight hundred dollars.”

“That’s all?”

“Beason, he was a cop and I was a
stay-at-home mom. How much do you think we had?”

“I’m having a hard time seeing the money they
took lasting long.”

“I guess he got a job.”

“No record of it.”

She looked up at me. “There’s not?”

“No activity on his social security
number.”

“Hmm.” Margaret thought about it. “You know,
he never touched his 401k.”

“His 401k?”

“It wasn’t much, like ten grand, but he never
tapped it. He would have had to pay a penalty on it, but if he was
desperate enough…”

I hadn’t thought of that. I had been getting
statements from Stella’s 401k for years. And dropped them straight
in the garbage. “You have access to his account?”

“Access, but I can’t get to it. I have his
passwords, but it’s all in his name.”

“You tried?”

She smiled sheepishly. “A few times. They
need his signature and I could never get it right.”

“You know,” I said, smiling along with her,
“I used to sign stuff for him all the time. Reports and warrants,
stuff like that. You want me to give it a try?”

“Would you?”

“Least I could do.”

***

“Who you got and how much?”

“Andy? This is Beason.”

“Hey, Beason. Who you got and how much?”

“Providence.”

“Providence doesn’t have a football team. Not
professional anyway. Look, it’s the playoffs, this is my busiest
time of year. I don’t have time for bullshit.”

“Busier than Bowl Week?”

“It’s a month now. Not that busy, but still
busy.”

“Busier than Alabama/Auburn?”

“
Nothing
touches that. What do you
want?”

“That little guy with Big Bird? He talks
funny and is from Providence, RI. Up near Boston.”

“Uh oh.”

“Uh oh?”

“Yeah. His name is Derrick Fletcher and he’s
a triggerman for one of those Irish outfits up north.”

“What’s his story? He any good?”

“Word is, he’s one of the best.”

“How did he end up working with a cracker
like Starling?”

“There was a screw up on his last job.”

“I thought you said he was one of the
best.”

“He is. He did his last job
too
good.”

“How’s that?”

“He was sent to get a guy and another guy was
there. Fletcher took them both. Only problem was the other guy was
somebody’s nephew or cousin or something.”

“Oh.”

“So he was sent down here until the heat
cooled down and some sort of arrangement could be worked out.”

“Thanks, Andy.”

“Watch your back, Beason.”