Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness

by Sandra Hill

  This on top of the scene back at the forge, when her secret had been disclosed, had to have Delilah feeling frightened, and alone. He wanted to go to her, but held back, wanting to deal with this creep and the police first.

  Bill Henderson handled himself in a surprisingly professional manner for a small-time sheriff. By talking to Delilah’s grandmother and getting some documents that showed her original loan of two thousand dollars a year ago, of which she’d repaid five thousand, but was now presumably up another ten thousand again.

  Henderson read the man, James Goodson, aka Jimmy the Goon, his rights and then told him, “You are facing some serious jail time, Mister Goodson. We do not appreciate extortion here in North Carolina.”

  “I wasn’t extortin’ no one,” Jimmy protested. “I was just collectin’ on a loan.”

  “Did I mention that loan-sharking is illegal, too?”

  “I want my phone call. Sharkie will have a lawyer here faster ’n you can say, ‘What the hell?’”

  The sheriff shoved Jimmy none-too-gently into the backseat of the patrol car and said, “You’ll get your call when I’m good and ready. This is Bell Cove, my friend, not Atlantic City. We’re like Frank Sinatra. We do things our way.”

  “I knew Frank Sinatra. He used to hang out at The Five. That’s the 500 Club in Atlantic City.”

  “Yeah, and I knew King Kong. He used to hang out at the Conti mansion.”

  “Huh?”

  Delilah and Maggie were over by the ambulance where an EMT was examining the Glam Gram who sat in the open back doorway of the ambulance, swinging her long dancer’s legs in the same full-body leotard she’d had on this morning, puffing away on an e-cigarette that smelled a lot like aged bourbon. Harry was holding her hand, he noticed. And the Glam Gram was clearly enjoying all the attention. When it appeared as if she wasn’t having to go to a hospital but was having her neck wrapped in some kind of gauze bandage, Merrill walked back to talk with the guys.

  “Excitement follows you everywhere, my friend,” K-4 said. “I can’t wait to see what happens next.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Wanna come in and have a beer?”

  “Nah. I need to talk to Delilah first.”

  “Oh, boy! Sure you don’t need fortification? I might have a half bottle of tequila left.”

  He shook his head. “I need a clear head for this.”

  “My advice? Take her to bed, screw her silly, and then talk.”

  “Has that ever worked for you?”

  “No, but it’s gotta work for someone.”

  Merrill went into his motel unit, where he showered and shaved. He called to check on his mother, and his father said she was much improved since this morning. “When will you be back?” his father asked.

  “I don’t know. Everything is going crazy here. I have a press conference tomorrow. And all kinds of business matters that have piled up during the ten days I’ve been gone. If there’s any change, let me know.”

  “I will,” his father said, “and, Merrill, we appreciate your coming.”

  Oh, shit! Make me feel guilty, why don’t you?

  He ordered a pizza, and when it was delivered, he carried it over to Delilah’s apartment.

  “Hello, Merrill. Thank you so much for your help today,” the Glam Gram said from where she sat at the kitchen table playing a game of solitaire, still vaping bourbon. She’d lost the leotard and was wearing some kind of silky black robe that had a band of red feathers along all the edges. A thick swathe of white gauze was wrapped around her neck, which would probably impress the hell out of the seniors tomorrow. “If it weren’t for you, I might be dead by now.”

  He wouldn’t go that far.

  Maggie, who’d been sitting on the sofa watching Annie on the small TV that the Glam Gram must have bought in Delilah’s absence, just then looked up and squealed, “Pizza! Yippee!”

  Merrill set the pizza box on the table, on the other side from the cards, and Maggie came running over, demanding a piece. He put one on a plate for her and another for Grandma, then took a piece for himself.

  The door to the bedroom was closed, and he assumed Delilah was in there. Is she hiding out from me?

  No, Delilah would come out punching, if she had something to say to me. That’s the problem. She obviously doesn’t want to talk to me.

  Well, tough toenails, toots! We’re gonna talk if I have any say, and, boy, do I have a lot to say!

  “She’s mad at you,” Grandma said.

  “No kidding!” He took another slice and wondered if he dared ask if they had any beer in this joint, or even a frickin’ soda.

  Sensing his thoughts, Grandma got up, went to the fridge, and came back with two beers.

  “So what’s up with Delilah?” he demanded.

  “She was worried sick about you last night. It was storming real bad here, and you weren’t answering her calls.” She shrugged and stacked all the cards together, having apparently lost that round with herself, then began to shuffle them like an expert croupier.

  “Wanna play a hand?”

  He laughed at the apparent hustler. “Not a chance. You’d clean me out in a casino minute.”

  “Wanna watch Annie with me?” Maggie asked, patting the sofa beside her.

  “Maybe some other time.”

  She had pizza sauce around her mouth and was pretending to feed the crust to her stuffed dog. Narrowing her eyes at him, she asked, “Did you get me a dog yet?”

  “I never said I would get you a dog.”

  “Betcha my Mommy would like you better if you watched Annie.”

  He actually considered that possibility for a moment.

  “Betcha she would like a surprise dog.”

  What a little con artist!

  Finally, he’d had enough. He went over and knocked on the bedroom door. “Delilah, are you decent? I’m coming in.” When he opened the door, he was shocked to find the room empty.

  He turned and demanded, “Where is she?”

  The conniving old lady blew out a thick cloud of bourbon vapor and said, “Gone.”

  Chapter 19

  Sometimes, just a hug is enough . . .

  On the last ferry back to Bell Cove that evening, after spending more than an hour with her parole officer, Ms. Gardner, in her Nags Head office, Delilah was alternately furious and frightened.

  Furious, because Merrill had gotten her into this mess. Oh, to be fair, he hadn’t reported her to her parole officer. She’s the one who’d been lax in notifying her contact in the department that she had a new job. Well, no, she actually had given notification of her new job by a cowardly voice mail before going out on the Sweet Bells expedition. Where she’d been lax—and, yes, deliberately so—was in failing to notify her employer of her prison record before the hiring.

  Frightened, because even such a small thing as failing to notify an employer of a prison record could nullify parole and result in a convict being remanded back to jail to do additional time. And what about Maggie, then? Oh, Lord! The prospect of losing her child to the system was beyond frightening to Delilah. It was terrifying. She doubted they would appoint her grandmother as guardian again. They would consider her a whack-job, with all her talk of Vegas shows, and slot machines in Atlantic City, and Avon products out the wazoo. Instead, they might place Maggie—oh, who knows where? Inadvertently with a sex pervert, maybe? Or with some hairy-armed guy with a heavy hand? Or with some religious nutcase who lived in a compound? Or with . . .

  No, she couldn’t think of all these things.

  As she sat in her car, waiting for the ferry to cross over into Bell Cove, she relived her conversation with Ms. Gardner:

  “I understand that you notified your employer of your felony status,” Ms. Gardner had said.

  “I did? I mean, of course I did.”

  “When I first talked to the office manager at the salvaging company last week, I got the impression that he had no idea of your background. But Mr. Good informed us this mor
ning that he had been well aware of your parole status.”

  He did? Oh, thank God! “Of course, he did.”

  “But our first suspicion that you’d failed to notify your employer of your background led us to do more investigating. We are concerned, very concerned.”

  What’s with the “our,” “us,” and “we” business? she’d wondered, immediately followed by the ominous words, “more investigating” and “very concerned.” She’d taken a deep breath for calmness and asked, “So, you’re satisfied that I informed my employer?”

  “For now, but of course that led to further questions.”

  Oh, my God!

  “Did you send a wire for ten thousand dollars to your grandmother in New Jersey?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where did you get that kind of cash?”

  “It was an advance from my employer. I sent it to my grandmother for moving expenses for her and my daughter to come to Bell Cove from New Jersey.”

  “That’s a very unusual employer who gives a new employee such a generous advance!”

  Delilah had ignored the sarcasm in that remark, barely.

  “What is going on in those motel units of yours? There appear to be a number of men and women going in and out. Are you by any chance running a brothel?”

  Delilah had gasped with outrage. “Are you serious?”

  “Serious as sin. And what is happening out on that boat for a week at a time? Men and women shacked up together? I’m telling you, Ms. Jones, this does not look good. Are you perhaps involved in a house of ill repute, or rather a boat of ill repute? Ha, ha, ha!”

  “That’s not funny, and I don’t think Mr. Good would think so, either. Are you prepared to face a slander suit in court?”

  “Are you threatening me, Ms. Jones?”

  “No, but Mr. Good is in a better position to defend himself than I am. I doubt he would appreciate the implications you’re making about his company.”

  “Hmpfh! Is your grandmother by any chance involved with loan sharks?” The parole officer had moved on.

  “What?” Oh, my God! I am screwed if this comes out.

  “Does your grandmother have a gambling addiction?”

  Screwed to the wall and shot full of holes.

  “And smoking. Do you think it’s acceptable to have a smoker in the house with a young child?”

  “She doesn’t smoke. She vapes.” That argument sounded lame, even to Delilah. “I object to your slander. My grandmother is a churchgoing woman who has taken good care of my daughter while I dutifully fulfilled my prison sentence. If you have problems with her, perhaps you should be complaining to the authorities in New Jersey who approved her as guardian while I was in prison.”

  Ms. Gardner had ignored her protest. “And this is the person . . . a smoking gambler with a shady past as a showgirl . . . you’ve chosen to care for your child in your absence while you are high-flying off on some pleasure boat?”

  “Now just wait a minute. My grandmother is perfectly capable of caring for my child in my absence. As for high-flying and pleasure boat, Sweet Bells is a salvaging vessel, pure and simple.”

  “Hmpfh! Do not leave Bell Cove for the time being. I expect a further investigation will result in a hearing to determine temporary guardianship of your child, and possible revocation of your parole.”

  On those terrifying words, Delilah got up to leave. Under her breath, she said, “Go fuck yourself, lady!”

  Before the door slammed behind her, she was pretty sure Ms. Gardner heard her, if the quick intake of air behind her was any indication.

  When she got back to Bell Cove, she would consult with her lawyer, Matt Holter. Well, first thing in the morning. It was too late now.

  To say she was terrified was to minimize her mood as she finally exited the boat and drove back to Bell Cove. She was half-dead with weariness when she drove onto her property and turned off the engine of the tank passing for a car that her grandmother had purchased. It continued sputtering even when the ignition was off, until it came to a dead silence.

  But that wasn’t the end of her day from hell.

  When she stepped out of the car, Merrill was standing there.

  “Oh, babe, you look like hell,” he said.

  With a choked laugh, she reciprocated with, “Well, I’m not so happy to see you, either.”

  “I didn’t say that I was unhappy to see you. I just said that you look like you could use a friend.” He opened his arms to her then.

  She should have walked away.

  She should have told him to shove it.

  She should have said she didn’t need his aggravation.

  Instead, she stepped into his embrace and murmured, “Thank you, friend.”

  Sometimes, all a girl needed was a hug.

  Trust me, baby, I have plans . . .

  Merrill led Delilah into his motel unit and then directly into the bathroom where he started to fill the tub with warm water, pouring in a dollop of some Avon bubble crap she’d left there. Immediately the small room filled with the sweet scent of flowers.

  Meanwhile, Delilah stood frozen in the middle of the bathroom. By the looks of her, she must have had a hell of a day. No time for questions now. Later. But, man, he’d like to slay some dragons for her at the moment. To knock some sense into the person, or persons, who’d put that defeated expression on her face.

  Please, God, don’t let me be one of them.

  He was still pissed at her over the felony conviction, and, oh, my God, five years’ hard time in a women’s pokey that he’d learned by a quick Google search was no country club designer prison. What kind of hell had she experienced?

  First, he undressed her. It was a sign of her miserable state that she didn’t even protest. When she was naked, he tested the water, which was covered by about a foot of bubbles. He might have overdone the dollop.

  He helped her in, then rolled up a towel to place under her neck so that she could lie back.

  “Aaaaah!” she sighed with appreciation.

  He pulled over a hamper and sat down on it, next to the tub.

  “Tell me,” he urged.

  “I’m afraid.”

  “Don’t be. I’m going to help you.”

  “But I’m an ex-con.”

  “I know.”

  “You were mad about that.”

  “Confused more than mad. Do you want to talk about it?”

  She shook her head. “Not now.”

  “Okay, tell me what happened today that has you so upset.”

  She did. Haltingly. Stopping to answer questions when he didn’t understand.

  “Let me help you.”

  She nodded, bending forward so that he could shampoo her hair.

  That’s not what he meant, but he figured he could explain later.

  When she was clean and wrapped in a towel, he wet-combed her hair, then carried her into his bed and crawled into the bed behind her, still fully dressed, though wet from his ministering to her. She was asleep before he even pulled the blankets up over them both, spooned together.

  He lay like that for a long time, thinking. Merrill’s high I.Q. came in handy at times like this. His brain worked like a computer, and he soon had a plan. Getting out of bed, carefully, so as not to wake Delilah, he pulled out his computer and set it on his lap while he sat on a chair with his feet crossed on the end of the bed.

  He needed a plan to protect Delilah and Maggie. If her daughter got into the system, it would be hell to get her back out. So, number one, get the kid in a secure location until the legalities could be ironed out. And he couldn’t send her anywhere alone. That meant that the grandmother would have to be with her.

  He checked his watch. It was ten o’clock. Going into the bathroom, he closed the door and called his father. “Dad, I need a favor,” he said, the minute his father answered. He’d forgotten to say “father,” rather than “dad.”

  But apparently it didn’t matter because his father answered, “What do you
need, son?”

  Without going into too many details, he explained that his fiancée’s daughter and grandmother needed a place to stay for a few days. He hoped to make that little lie about a fiancée become the truth shortly.

  “Bring them here,” his father said, without question. “There’s plenty of room.”

  Good thing Vanessa was gone by now. She’d have a bird on meeting Salome Jones. Merrill wasn’t sure that his mother wouldn’t react the same way. He couldn’t worry about that now.

  Next, he checked North Carolina marriage laws and found out that there was no waiting period, not even a requirement for blood tests. Just get a marriage license at the courthouse and find someone to perform the ceremony. Easy-peasy. He figured that marriage was the safest way to protect Delilah. Convincing her—now that was another story.

  After that, he looked into adoption procedures, but that would take much longer. A good lawyer should be able to protect Delilah’s rights in the meantime. If she was protected, and if there was one thing Merrill Good had learned as a Navy SEAL it was protection. Whether country or person, that was his specialty.

  Some of these government employees liked to wield their power, though, and he wasn’t taking any chances of Delilah or Maggie staying here in the open like sitting ducks.

  Now, convincing Delilah that all these things needed to be done—that would be a challenge. Merrill smiled. There was nothing he liked better than a challenge. And planning—hell, he was an expert planner, whether battle plans or plans to fight government bureaucrats, he was in his zone.

  Leaving the motel unit quietly, he went next door and told K-4 what he needed to do and asked for his assistance with a few details. Next, he walked over to the apartment behind the motel office. There was still a light on, and he could see through the sliding door that Delilah’s grandmother was sitting at the kitchen table with some kind of green crap on her face that looked like hardened concrete. She was painting her fingernails yellow, of all things. He assumed Maggie was asleep in the bedroom. A radio on the counter was playing some oldies but goodies music.