Nothing was left, though, but the manners Mama had drilled into me. “Thank you for having us.” Surely the lamest version of that line ever uttered.
I took one last look at the woman I’d fancied might have so many answers for me, then I turned away before I could do something stupid, like blubber.
In under five minutes, we were on the road again, smothered in a silence as dense as a tomb’s but ripe with emotions I could not let myself think about right then.
A moth was clinging to the upper corner of the windshield as I drove off. The wind whipped its wings, frantic and fast—
In a blink, it was ripped away and gone.
The Red River Plunge of Bonnie and Clyde
On June 10, 1933, Mr. and Mrs. Sam Pritchard and family saw from their home on the bluff (west) the plunge of an auto into Red River. Rescuing the victims, unrecognized as Bonnie Parker and Clyde and Buck Barrow, they sent for help. Upon their arrival, the local sheriff and police chief were disarmed by Bonnie Parker. Buck Barrow shot Pritchard’s daughter while crippling the family car to halt pursuit. Kidnapping the officers, the gangsters fled. Bonnie and Clyde were fated to meet death in 1934. In this quiet region, the escapade is now legend.
THE WORLD FROM WEED LEVEL
The sky looked just like cotton batting, all cottage-cheese clumpy in spots, stretched thin and wispy in others.
Sort of the way I felt just then. I couldn’t get my last sight of Glory out of my mind, whatever threats she’d made. Mama and Sister’s way had been to run when things got hairy, but Big Lil never backed off, and Dark Agnes would have simply whipped out her sword and kicked some ass. If I were going to change the O’Brien legacy, I shouldn’t be leaving.
“I’m going back,” I said, and started to whip a U-turn.
“What? Are you crazy? What part of murdering didn’t you get?” Val grabbed for the wheel. “Stop this car.”
“She’s all alone, and I don’t believe that, anyway,” I said, slapping at his hand.
“You think that woman can’t take care of herself? Stop the damn car, Red.”
We struggled briefly for the wheel. “Let go,” I said.
He did, abruptly. “Hear that?” His face screwed up in concentration.
“What?”
“That sound. Your engine.”
“I don’t hear anything.”
He cocked his head. Shook it. “Never mind.” He looked at me. “You have no idea what you’re getting into. The woman is obviously nuts, and she clearly doesn’t want your help. You barely know her, and the people who do are no fans.”
I eased my foot on the accelerator. “What exactly did they say about her?”
“Some guys at the next table just—It’s nothing I can put my finger on. Mostly the way her name was mentioned.”
“You don’t actually buy that murdering claim? It’s just graffiti.”
“I got a feeling, Red, I’m telling you. When you’re in a strange place, you should always trust your gut.” He raked one hand through his hair. “It’s like they despised her but were scared of her, too.”
“They called her a witch,” Alex said. “I think witches are real.”
Val snorted. “Right, kid. So’s Santa Claus.”
“I’ll have you know that Madame Eva is a witch. A Wiccan, the good ones.” I sniffed. “People misuse the term witch.”
Val rolled his eyes. “How much did you pay Madame Eva, Red?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“I figured. It’s a scam, you know.”
“I know nothing of the sort. You’ve never met her.”
“I’ve met a thousand of her,” he muttered.
“Marker,” Alex piped up.
“What?” I yanked my attention from Val.
“You missed one.”
Reading markers was the last thing on my mind just then, but as I glanced at her in the rear view mirror, I saw the plea on her face. For Val and me to stop arguing or for me not to take her to Lubbock? I wasn’t sure, but she looked all of twelve, piercings and smudged mascara notwithstanding.
As I considered stopping, backing up, going on to Glory’s or . . . whatever, all I knew was that I was more weary than ever. One sign, Sister. Just one.
The only sound I heard, though, was some sort of knocking.
Coming from under my hood.
If that’s you, Sister, do not for one second believe I think you’re even a little bit funny.
Val got what he wanted, though. I stopped the car.
Alex revved the engine. Being behind the wheel had turned her face to sunshine.
Val and I stood before the open hood. The noise had added a dandy little ker-whap. “What is it?” I asked as he made manly thinking noises.
“Christ, Red.” He turned to me. “How should I know? I look like a mechanic?”
“But you’re—”
“A man?” One eyebrow arched. “You didn’t get the memo that women can do everything a man can do, only better?”
“Well . . . ” I was all for women being strong and independent, but in my book there were some things that men were just better at. I recalled the guys who used to hang around Sister, who spent endless hours in front of wherever we lived at the time, minus shirts and anointing their vehicles with Turtle Wax and Armorall. Shoot, even Jelly liked to go to car shows and discuss the muscle power beneath a hood. A genetic thing. “Don’t you work on your own car?”
“I don’t have one,” he snapped.
“Oh.” But that had no bearing on my current pickle. “Anyhow, guys talk about cars all the time in school and well, anywhere. Surely you and your buddies traded repair advice in the locker room or . . . ”
“I never went to school.”
“You . . . what?”
He tensed, and the moment became awkward and strained. Like I’d found he had a disfiguring scar and pointed at it instead of ignoring it. He wouldn’t look at me, and I was feeling clumsier by the minute. I tried to lighten the atmosphere. “Okay. You’re right. A woman is perfectly capable of tending to all her own needs.”
His shoulders eased, and he reverted to the Val I knew, smiling with pure devilment. “Really?” he drawled. “So I guess you know your way around all sorts of mechanical equipment.”
I had probably blushed harder in my life, but I’d have been hard-pressed to say when. “Valentine . . . ” I went for stern.
“Eu-dor-a . . . ” Somehow he made a dignified name sound vaguely . . . wicked.
Alex hit the horn, and both of us stumbled backward.
“Hey!” I rounded the hood. “What was that for?”
“I need a bathroom,” she said. “You done?”
“There are bushes right over there,” Val said from behind me.
“Ew! No way!”
“You may not have any choice,” I pointed out. “I don’t know if it’s safe to drive this.”
“I’m not sure you have the op—” With a noisy rattle and a shudder, the car died. “—tion,” she finished.
At this point, I was rubbing my forehead and wondering exactly what had been so bad about Jelly and the bimbo. There was room enough for all three of us in the house. Sex with him had pretty much lost its flavor, anyway.
Val stuck his head in the driver’s window. “When did you last fill this, Red?”
Oh, crap. When did I last look at the needle, was the question. One trigger-happy gun dealer, a smart aleck, one pregnant teenager and a cat ago, best I could recall.
“How far you think it is back to Glory’s?” I asked him.
“The town’s closer. This is the way I hitched last night.” He glanced up ahead. “It’s only a couple of miles now, I bet. I’ll walk it.”
“No, you stay here. I screwed up. I’ll fix it.”
“Red . . . ”
But I’d had enough of people for a while. I dove into the front seat long enough to snag my purse, since money would no doubt be required, and I started walking.
“Red
, get your ass back in the car,” Val was yelling. Over my shoulder I could see he was charging after me.
I launched into a quick-step. “Go back. Alex can’t be left alone.”
“Damn it, don’t be an idiot.”
I lengthened my stride, ignoring, as best I could, the thousand rocks a second digging into my soles. I needed a break from everyone, some time to chew on all of this. If Agnes could take off into a dangerous world all alone, then what did I have to worry about? My virginity was history, so no guy was going to come along to sell it.
Could pepper spray count as a dagger?
“Red!” Val hadn’t turned back. He was standing with fists on his hips, glowering. “You’re insane. No telling what might happen to you. A woman shouldn’t be on the road alone.”
“I worked in a convenience store at night, for crying out loud.” I fumbled around in my bag, then brandished my pepper spray. “See? I’m armed and dangerous.”
He shook his head. “Let me go.”
“Just because you’re a guy means nothing. Didn’t you see Deliverance?”
He didn’t laugh, but I could tell he wanted to, just a little. Confident that I’d won, I started to turn back.
“How do you know you can trust me?” Val hollered. “You can’t leave me with a kid and a cat,” he spluttered.
For the first time, I witnessed Mr. Cool breaking a sweat. He was nearly walleyed.
So it was me who burst out laughing. For a morning that had definitely sucked so far, things were looking up.
What few clouds there were had broken up; only endless blue remained. The sun was hotter than Hades already, and I had no hat and no shade. I could literally feel the new freckles rising to the surface of my skin. How far was this town, anyway?
A sign ahead. Thank goodness for the world of filthy lucre. Dairy Queens and their kin blared out alerts so you could get in the right lane in time. Surely this one would tell me how much more walking I had to do.
This sign, however, turned out to be different.
Broken Heart
Jesus Heals
With a big red heart painted right smack dab in the center, its double humps between Broken and Heart, its pointed tail between Jesus and Heals.
That was it. No directions, no markers. No explanations or hints. Only a simple statement of faith. I was pea-green with envy, pardon the pun.
My religious training was a little lacking. Okay, nonexistent. Mama had been raised in a church, I think, but she’d forsaken it long before I was born. Her faith was more a case of runaway optimism and a diehard belief in being swept away by romance. Sister told me once that my name came from the author of one of Mama’s favorite stories, The Robber Bridegroom, by Eudora Welty. When I found a copy, I understood Mama better, her unshakable attachment to the notion that there was a good man inside every bad boy, given the right woman.
Too bad she never managed to be that woman. Then again, I wouldn’t be here but for her faith that next time, things would be better.
Sister wasn’t a big believer in anything up until she discovered reincarnation, and even then, she didn’t want to know too many of the details, which is the exact opposite of me. I would offer to look for books on it, but she liked her version just fine. Namely that a lousy life wasn’t the end and the next one could be different. Better.
Me, I didn’t know what to think about faith. The big picture wasn’t something the last in line got to see the way the leader did. When Mama passed on, I followed Sister’s lead in just about everything. When Sister was dying, I was doing good to keep my eyes on the next step, then the next, day after day, because the long view was too scary.
And when she was gone . . . well, I couldn’t exactly say what I’d been doing all those months. Mostly just getting by.
My thoughts were rudely interrupted by the boom of head-banger music. A faded navy blue pickup neared. Slowed down. I braced myself as every city instinct I ever had reared to attention. Face forward, keep walking. Hand on pepper spray. Reach for sharp nail file. Wish for Agnes’s dagger. I knew I needed sword lessons.
“Ma’am? You need some help?” The window rolled down to reveal a fresh-faced country boy, all white teeth and straw cowboy hat.
But weren’t cowboys supposed to listen to country music?
“Ma’am? Are you okay?”
My professional radar told me that this boy was no threat and despite my reluctance to agree with Val on any topic, he was right. Your gut can just about always be trusted. Problem was, most people forgot how to listen. “Is there a town ahead?”
“Jewel’s about half a mile around that bend. Hop in, ma’am, and I’ll take you there. You have car trouble or something?”
“I did, indeed.”
“Where’s your car?”
I used my thumb. “Back that way.”
He paused. “Ma’am—”
Ma’am. He was eighteen, max. I didn’t want to strangle him simply because he was making me feel old. “Eudora. Call me Eudora.” I was on a new path, after all.
“Eudora.” He pondered a minute. “Well, ma’am, did no one ever tell you it’s not safe for a woman to leave her car? First thing they advise you in drivers’ education is stay with your vehicle. Not to be bossy or anything, ma’am, but—”
“Eudora,” I said firmly.
“Yes, ma’am. Eudora, I mean. Maybe I could take a look at it for you. My dad and grandpa own the service station in town, see. That’s where I’m going now, to work. I just finished my chores.”
Was he for real? An older Opie, and I would meet Aunt Bea up ahead? “I wouldn’t want you to be late.”
“Shoot, Pop would whip my tail if I deserted a lady on the road. Hop in, and we’ll see what’s what.” He cleared room, tossing CD cases and soft drink cans behind the seat. “Sorry about that, ma—” My glare must have finally sunk in. “—er, Eudora.”
“What’s your name, cowboy?”
He didn’t answer right away as I climbed inside in my denim miniskirt and was treated to my second long, slow down-and-up of this trip. His neck, like his arms, was very tan, but I could still see the blush rising like mercury in a thermometer.
“Your name?” I repeated.
“Um, Jeremy, m—I mean, Eudora. Jeremy Cashwell.” He stuck out his hand.
I smiled at him and accepted it. “Pleased to meet you, Jeremy.” I crossed my legs, just for the fun of watching him flush.
Hey, it had been a rough morning. Everyone deserves a little pleasure now and again.
Have you ever spent much time looking at the world from weed-level? Me, either. That I was reduced to it a while later was not much to my liking.
Turned out Alex’s daddy had a thing for engines he passed on to her, so she had her head under the hood of my car with Jeremy, and heaven forbid that Val admit how little he understood when a mere speck of a girl could speak the lingo.
So it was me and the cat plopped down on the shady side of my car. Irresponsible of me not to be up there asking questions, I was sure, but I figured I’d find out sooner or later.
I was the only one with greenbacks.
Jeremy had already solved one problem. He carried a can of gas in the back of his truck, which was how he got the engine running again. Just in time for that loud noise to get worse.
I didn’t want to think about it.
So I was trailing this stick in the dirt and driving Isis crazy. She was pouncing and darting, and every once in a while, she reared so fast she fell over backward, but in true cat fashion, she recovered before she hit. Landed on her feet every time.
“I think you’re my hero, kitty girl,” I murmured with her close to my face, so no one else heard. “Seems I can’t find my feet half the time now.”
She was too busy batting at my hair to clue me in on how she felt about the praise.
“Look at the hawk.” Val dropped down beside me.
“Where?”
He pointed to the sky just above a clump of trees. “Ma
n, what must that be like to just glide up high above it all? Don’t have to give a shit about anything down on the ground.”
The note of longing was a surprise, like that moment earlier when Val admitted he didn’t have a car. He wasn’t Mr. Cool and Cynical right then, more . . . vulnerable, I guess. A little more open. Maybe I could get some answers. “You never told me where you’re from.”
He shrugged. “Nowhere.” When I hissed, he grinned. “What? Isn’t that exactly what you said?”
Grrr. But he was right. You had to give a little to get a little. “I was in Austin last, but we moved around a lot when I was growing up.”
“I hear you.”
“Was your dad in the military?”
He snorted. “I have no idea who my dad was.”
“Really? Me either.”
His head swiveled toward me. “No shit?”
“Scout’s honor. Except I was never a Scout.”
A rueful curve of his lips. “Ditto.”
“So it was just you and your grandmother?” No way was I asking about a mom now.
Silence.
Open mouth, insert foot, Pea. “I’m so sorry. It hasn’t been that long. You don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to.”
“Shit.” He stared into the distance.
“I’m really sorry. I should never—” I felt awful. I grabbed Isis, started to rise.
“Stop it, Red.” His head dropped. He raked fingers through his hair. “You’re too soft. Too damn sweet.” He swore softly. “This is never going to work. It’s the problem with hanging around too long.” He stared at the sky again. “I know I’m going to regret this, but—”
“What?”
“It’s a long story.”
“We’re not exactly in a rush here.” I settled beside him again.
“My grandma,” he began.
“Val, you don’t have to—”
“Stop it, Red. I feel like shit already.” He faced me. “I don’t have one.”
The Goddess of Fried Okra Page 10
