Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 01 - Wendy and the Lost Boys

by Barbara Silkstone

  “Make yourself to home. My name is Joseph. I’m Charlie’s big brother.” He looked to be in his late 60s. His voice was raw, his accent hardscrabble. “We’ll be driving for a bit. Six hours to be exact. You girls feel like you have to make a stop, give me enough notice. T’aint too many comfort places along the route.”

  Hook sat with his hands firmly in his lap, riding shotgun in more ways than one.

  “You folks must be hungry. As soon as we get outside the city, there’s a restaurant where we can stop.” Joseph smiled hospitably as he managed to hit every chuckhole with great enthusiasm.

  I watched the dimly lit signs as we traveled north.

  Ink Wizard Tattoos – Only God can judge you.

  Mt. Zion Church – Wed. Meat Loaf

  The mosquito bites were torture. I raked my skin, drawing more blood.

  Jaxbee mumbled, “Nuts, nuts, nuts.” Repeating it like a prayer. “This is not part of our plan,” she whispered. “Hook’s deviating.”

  Since I didn’t know the original plan, I didn’t know how much trouble we were in, but I could agree that Hook was a deviate.

  Roger sat silent, his eyes fixed on the road. There was barely enough room in the backseat to get a full breath of air. Gravel whipped the sides of the old truck. I tried to look out the rear window, but could see nothing through the crud and mud. For long lost family, Charlie and Joseph Hook didn’t have much to say. I guessed Hook was pretty well spent from the stress. I wondered if his brother knew what he’d done. Joseph didn’t appear to be the type of guy motivated by money.

  After four hours on the road, Joseph said, “Here we go. Get some food in y’all.” He slowed the pickup onto a gravel parking lot. It was after midnight. The restaurant was dimly lit with a sign over the door, Chick Ain’t Mad at No One Restaurant. “Don’t think about discussing much here,” Joseph said. “These are our folk, and they don’t like hearing negative things if you get my drift.”

  I almost fell on top of Jaxbee as we tumbled from the truck. I hated the way I smelled. I hated the way we all smelled. We stunk like a fishy petting zoo. I needed a restroom with running water and soap. Yes. Soap.

  The lights were dim and the menus were greasy. Joseph directed us to the bar stools. “Excuse me while I run to the ladies’ room. You can order without me,” I said.

  Joseph smiled a toothless grin. “You’re in Chick’s restaurant. You’ll eat what Chick sets out. The menus are just for show.”

  I found my way to the unisex potty. Ice-cold running water and coarse paper towels. No soap. I did without. Drying my hands and running the rough paper on my bites, I wanted to cry. But the only way out was to go forward. I returned to the counter wondering what Chick had decided to feed us.

  My plate looked like the others, just smaller portions. Either I appeared to have a lesser appetite or someone had nibbled on my food. There was a tiny slab of ham and two fried eggs. A pat of butter sat in a small wad of thick grits.

  Charlie’s brother sat on my left. Jaxbee and Roger had the stools on my right. Joseph leaned toward me directing his words at our miserable, bug-bitten group. Roger wrinkled his upper lip in an Elvis-snarl as he tried to eat.

  A muscled old man, balding, with wide-set eyes and a bushy mustache came from behind the kitchen wall. “Good to see you.” He extended a tattooed hand. Joseph shook it. Hook hesitated and then reached over. His UpUGo leaped to attention banging the counter. Chick shot him a peculiar look. “That glad to see me?” His shook his head and turned to the rest of us.

  “I’m Chick and this is my place. Any friend of the Hook brothers is always welcome here.” He leaned over the counter studying Jaxbee, Roger, and me. We must have been an odd sight. “You going to or coming from the pirate festival?”

  “Just picked ‘em up from Tybee. We’re headed north to my goat farm.” Joseph turned to the rest of us. “Chick and I was in the Navy together. Chick here is the head of the retired Navy guys, United States Navy Retired Activities Branch. There ain’t nothin’ he don’t know about the sea.”

  Joseph folded a fried egg with his fork and dipped it into his grits. “Charlie was raised on the goat farm.” He smiled at us over his steaming coffee, his eyes watering.

  A chatty fellow, Hook’s brother appeared to be enjoying our company. He waffled on, bringing us up to speed on the last fifty years of Hook family history.

  “I married me a church lady. Sister Mary’s an albino but she loves people. That woman can cook. No offense Chick, but she got you beat.”

  Chick pulled a fake punch at Joseph and then laughed.

  “This is gonna be a big treat for her, having company to fuss over. Ever since her brother killed hisself she’s been mighty lonely.”

  Joseph’s blabbering was digging into my tired brain. I wanted to tell him to stop talking but decided not to say anything. My silence might be golden or at least safer.

  He turned to Hook. “Didja know about that? Gus tied hisself up in rope and then rolled down the hill into the lake and drowned hisself. Left the car running ‘cause it was always so darn hard for Mary to start. He was a considerate fella.”

  I eyed the exit door. We were in the middle of nowhere and running made no sense. Roger squeezed my arm as if to say it was okay.

  Hook eased himself from his stool, carefully guiding his UpUGo out from under the counter.

  Chick’s eyes doubled in size. “Wow. You are doing well!”

  “Be right back,” Hook growled as he headed into the potty.

  Joseph watched the restroom door close and then spoke quickly as if sharing a secret. “I’m so pleased my brother’s back home. I missed the little feller. When his moving van arrived, I got down on my knees and thanked the Lord. I followed the letter of his note the driver gave me. We put the van in the barn and ain’t touched it since. I imagine my brother’s got lots of memories in that there van.”

  Roger and I exchanged glances, our eyeballs spinning.

  “I’m sure he’s planning on sorting out the wrong he’s done. There’s been a warrant out for his life for selling his land – what he inherited from the Hook side of the family. Hooks are like Cherokees. We’re forbidden to sell our land. If Charlie can make this right, and buy back the land, he doesn’t have to be killed. He can settle down among his kin, again.”

  Jaxbee leaned into the conversation. “Who has a warrant for his life?”

  Joseph cupped his hand over the side of his mouth and whispered, “Family Council says a member of the Hook family has to execute him for what he done, selling the land that is our legacy.”

  “Shit…” Jaxbee said. “You guys ever read the newspaper?”

  The older Hook brother shook his head. “Why’d we want to go and ruin a perfectly good day by reading ‘bout wars and crooks? Ain’t no good ever come from knowing that stuff. I don’t think I’ve seen a newspaper since the day they shot John Kennedy.” He downed the last of his coffee.

  Hook returned just as we all finished eating. He threw a wad of money on the counter.

  Chick pitched it back at him. “Your money’s no good here.” He laughed.

  Back in the pickup, Hook seemed to loosen up. He smiled twice at Joseph and once at Jaxbee. He laughed quietly at one of Joseph’s tall tales.

  My mind was working overtime trying to figure how this backwoods Hook got to Wall Street. Who vouched for him, and where’d he get his startup money?

  Driving and talking to the backseat didn’t seem to slow Joseph. I was center back, so he directed most of his over-the-shoulder chatter to me. He was giving a tour and enjoying it.

  We came barreling through another town. I could tell because the signage got more intimate – Pepperoni Pizza/Dentures and Partials. I elbowed Roger and nodded at the sign. We muffled a laugh and it came out as twin snorts.

  “Getting too much wind back there?” Joseph asked.

  “No!” we answered in unison. The gritty breeze was the only thing keeping the wet dog stench tamped down.


  “Sorry about the smell. I use the truck to haul goats. Sometimes them baby goats need to be inside the cab.”

  More road signs. This time directions: Cherry Log, Swamp Creek.

  “Won’t be long now. We’re gettin’ there. Got a surprise for Charlie.”

  “You know better than that,” Hook said.

  Joseph winked at me. “He never did take to surprises,”

  More miles. More bumps. I leaned against Roger till I had a kink in my neck.

  Jaxbee continued her quiet chant….nuts, nuts, nuts.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Surprise!”

  And it was. Not sure who jumped higher… Hook or me.

  “It’s a Prodigal Party,” Joseph said. “Just like in the Bible. We’re celebrating the return of the youngest son. Wish Daddy was alive to see this. If he hadn’t tried to carry off that bear cub, he’d sure be happy to see this day. My little brother’s returned for his redemption!” We were in the community hall surrounded by dozens of happy Hook cousins.

  They were an odd assortment, no two alike and yet identical. The men were all lean and clean-shaven with dark hair and skin like dried apples. Most were dressed in jeans or bib overalls; a few wore golf shirts. The women were thin to almost anorexic, with pale skin and hair pulled back in buns. They were all in light blue dresses with stiff white collars and broomstick skirts. The youngest cousin had to be in his fifties, and the oldest was probably on the other side of one hundred.

  “Here, take this.” Roger passed his headscarf to Hook who tied it around his waist. It didn’t hide his problem if anything it made it worse. But with the crowd pressing in on Hook, his UpUGo lost its high profile.

  An elderly lady who looked like she stepped off a label of embroidery thread approached us. She nodded at Joseph smiling an angelic smile. She had porcelain skin, white hair and eyes the color of ice. Slender and graceful, she reminded me of a swan. I guessed her to be in her early 70s. “I’m Sister Mary, Joseph’s wife. Welcome.” She hugged Jaxbee and then me. The scent of lye soap lingered on my cheek.

  My wind-burned lips cracked as I gave her my sweetest smile.

  “I’m so glad you’re all here. We were worried about Charlie. It’s good to see he has friends and he’s come back to his family.”

  Joseph was beaming at her. “Picked up a box of .22s while I was in town.”

  Mary smiled. “That’s nice, Joseph. Don’t stay too long at the party. Tomorrow being Sunday, we have church in the morning. I’m sure you’ll all want to be there.”

  Music broke out. I turned to check out the band. Two fiddlers, a banjo and a harmonica broke into a double-time version of The Devil Went Down to Georgia.

  I should have been exhausted but my curiosity was pumping adrenalin to the point where my eyeballs were popping. My watch told me it was two in the morning. Way past my bedtime.

  Roger reminded me of a hunting dog with the way his brow was bent in concentration. He was studying everyone as if there’d be a test.

  The women brought in platters of food. Collard greens, corn, potatoes, and goat meat steaks. I ate the veggies, but skipped the meat.

  “Not quite Smith & Wollensky’s,” Roger said.

  “You know that restaurant?”

  “It’s my favorite eatery in Manhattan.”

  “The porterhouse?”

  “Their best steak is the porterhouse for two. I owe you dinner and an apology,” he said. “That was a dirty trick sticking you with Hook. I just wanted to see you sock him in the nose. The expression on your face was priceless.”

  Someone yelled from the back of the room. “He’s here! Granddaddy Earl has arrived.” The crowd parted as a wave of energy came flying into the room like a bat on fire.

  “Where is that grandson of mine?” Granddaddy Earl was a head shorter than me and might break one hundred pounds after a big meal. His eyeballs moved independent of each other but carried identical bags. A perfectly matched set of horse-size dentures dominated his face, while the world’s worst toupee sat catawampus on his head. He held the hair in place with both hands as he ran across the meeting hall. He was wearing shriveled jeans and a plaid pajama top.

  “So you finally returned!” He cackled as he stomped up to Hook and punched him in the stomach. It was more than a love tap. The men all laughed as if it was the funniest thing they’d ever seen. They were falling on each other and howling with delight. The UpUGo stayed up.

  “Weird sense of humor,” I said to Roger.

  “So you’re here to buy back your Hook-Family land from that there Cherokee? I’ll believe it when I see it. I remember when you were screwing widows out of their last dollars, and that was when you were in grade school.”

  Granddaddy Earl scanned the room like he was taking a headcount, then he turned to Hook. “Come here, sonny. Give your granddaddy a hug.” He grabbed Hook in a scrawny grip bumping his erection. “What the hell is this? I mean I know what it is… but why?”

  “A minor problem,” Hook said as he broke free from the embrace.

  Granddaddy Earl stepped back with a look of puzzled admiration. “I wouldn’t call that thing minor. I’d be right proud of it, but there’s a time and a place for everything. Now put it down.”

  Distracted, Granddaddy Earl did a double take at Jaxbee. He shimmied up to her and squeezed her butt. She pushed him away. “You old pervert.”

  He turned to me and made a reach for my tush. Roger grabbed his arm. “Back off.” I could hear brittle bones creak.

  Granddaddy Earl adjusted his toupee as he frowned at Roger, then standing a fraction of an inch taller, he turned to the group.

  “If this is a Prodigal Party, and we got us a Prodigal Son, let’s party.”

  “The church ladies are excused,” Joseph said. Sister Mary and the women in blue disappeared out a side door.

  I leaned over to Jaxbee. “Why are the women leaving?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe it’s one of those weird sect things?”

  “Sect with a “ct” and not sex?”

  We both giggled.

  There was a loud roar of male laughter. We turned to see Granddaddy Earl leaping in the air trying to retrieve his hairpiece. Someone had put it on the doorframe above the door, ten feet off the ground.

  Joseph stood between Roger, Jaxbee, and me explaining the scene, “That toupee is the life of all our parties. We built some great traditions around that piece of dead muskrat.”

  “That toupee is an animal?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Was and a fine one at that.”

  Wrinkling her nose, Jaxbee put her hand up to block the view of her face. She crossed her eyes and rolled them.

  “Granddaddy Earl has his vanities. He hates being bald. Tried all sorts of cures, even smeared his head with chicken fat. That was useless, but for a time he sure smelled good. Once he tried massaging his scalp day and night, he almost bled out.”

  I elbowed Roger as I swallowed a laugh.

  “Eventually he went to Lou’s Taxidermy – nice fella, that Lou. He made that hairpiece for Granddaddy Earl out of a handsome muskrat. If you notice, Granddaddy Earl’s a short fella; he takes after the Bonesapart side of the family. Even as young’uns the Hook boys could eat apples off the top of his head. We never could let a good practical joke go unattended, and it was so easy to grab the hair off his noggin and run off with it.”

  Granddaddy Earl was teetering on a chair as he grabbed his toupee from atop the doorframe.

  Joseph continued, “The more Granddaddy Earl would show-off that hairpiece, the more we’d tease him. First Christmas he had it one of the cousins snuck into his bedroom the night before and stole the toupee. Next morning forty-two cousins gathered to open presents. The old man wouldn’t come out of his room without his muskrat-rug. We drug him out into the parlor with a hat on his head.

  “After he settled down on the sofa, he saw the toupee on top of the Christmas tree. He went plum crazy trying to get it down. It was a twelve-foot tree
. Seeing him get all worked-up over that piece of tailored muskrat, we just rose to the occasion. That’s how our tradition started. The cousins always steal his toupee before Christmas and use it as a tree-topper.

  “At special gatherings someone grabs that hairpiece and puts it out of Granddaddy Earl’s reach. The old man goes crazy. We told him when he passes we are going keep his toupee so it can sit on top of the Christmas tree every year.”

  “Cruel but funny,” I said.

  “Granddaddy Earl made Sam-the-Undertaker promise to super-glue his toupee to his head before he buries him. Ain’t going to happen. Sam’s agreed to give the cousins the toupee. The old man is going to go nuts in hell.”

  Roger started to laugh. That was all I needed. I let fly and Jaxbee joined me in a total giggle-fit.

  “The old goat deserves it. My brother Charlie hates him for what he done to him when he was a little boy. Don’t tell Charlie Hook I shared this, but when he was little our parents would leave him for the entire day with Granddaddy. Earl had no patience with kids. He’d tie Charlie to a tree in the morning. Put his food and his toys next to the tree. By the time the sun was high, all the food was gone and the toys were just out of his reach. Made my brother crazy like a sprayed roach.”

  We spent an hour watching Granddaddy Earl chase his hair. Most of the men were drinking bourbon. Hook never touched a drop. I imagined his taste buds had outgrown Jim Beam.

  “Come sit with me,” he said.

  I stood over him casting my most disdainful look.

  “So don’t sit. You are so hard-hearted. Someday I’ll own you.”

  Skipping over his threat, I said, “I’d love to know your secret. How did you catapult from this…” I pointed to the partiers, “to one of the largest financial scandals in history? Ambition is not enough.”

  “It’s no secret. I sold my land here in Georgia for the first tranche of money then borrowed against fake financial statements,” he smirked.

  “And you’re proud of this?”