Deep in the Heart of Dixie

by Heidi Sprouse

  Chapter 4

  Dixie woke up with the dawn tapping on her windows, sunshine tiptoeing in through a crack in the curtains while songbirds played a wake-up song. She stretched like a cat, long and luxurious, from her toes to her fingertips. Her fingers danced through her hair, tousling it, because it didn’t matter what it looked like, just that she felt good for the first time in…she didn’t know how long, not since she was a little girl. Those days were hazy and ever since Owen came into their lives, there was a dark cloud hanging over her and Mama, one they couldn’t shake. The sky was clear here with nobody keeping watch and Dixie could do as she pleased. There was no one to pick at her or size her up only to cut her down.

  She jumped out of bed and yanked the window hangings open wide. Her old home had always been dark and gloomy for a step-father who was usually sleeping off a hangover. Everything was dictated by his moods which were generally as black as pitch and just as sticky, dragging everyone into the muck. No more. The windows were raised to allow the breeze to roam freely, the sunshine danced on the kitchen floor, and Dixie found herself dancing with it. She turned on the radio, twirled a few more times, then hummed along while she stood at the counter and ate her breakfast. A quick flit through the shower and she felt as new as the day, right as rain. It was strange. She was so much lighter, light enough to walk on air or join the birds in the sky. She had spent thirteen years weighted down by Owen’s anger. Now she could float away like Tinker Bell, maybe find her Peter Pan.

  Getting dressed for work was hard, this business of being seen. She wasn’t used to it. The day she arrived, she had to be loud, with an explosion of fiery curls, over the top makeup, and clothes that shouted, “Here I am!” Dixie was someone who was miles away from Jamie Ann Ray, strong enough to face Slick Nichols and take on the world. Today was different; it was her first job. She wanted to look respectable for Jake Lee Jackson, settling on jeans, a simple, peasant blouse in white, and flip flops. Easy on the cosmetics, her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. The girl next door stared back out of the mirror. Staring at her reflection, Dixie couldn’t help smiling at what she saw. There was no need to worry about hiding anymore. Owen would not recognize her. He had never truly seen her. After all those years in her life, he wouldn’t be able to pick her face out of a crowd.

  Jamie, no… she didn’t answer to that name anymore. She was Dixie now. Jamie Ann Ray was gone along with anyone who laid claim to that name or truly cared for the person she used to be. Dixie gave herself one final inspection and found herself acceptable. She could pass for a small town girl in a Mom and Pop store even if she looked more like someone from the wrong side of the tracks rather than a Southern belle.

  The walk to the store was settling and peaceful, everything that the city in upstate New York was not. People took their time, ambling past, nodding and calling out, “Mighty fine day,” or “Morning to you, Miss.” Cars drove more slowly, in no particular hurry to get where they had to go. They would get there when they got there. Even the bees buzzed lazily like they had all the time in the world, dipping themselves in too many flowers to choose from, drowning themselves in honey.

  The air was heavy and damp, warmer than up North. It felt too good, easing its way in to all of the cold and dark places left behind in Jamie Ann Ray. The heat was a soft glove wrapping around Dixie and holding her tight, making her feel safe. Maybe that explained the reason no one rushed in the South. Everyone was too hot to be bothered.

  Dixie’s heart lifted, along with the tilt of her chin, as Jackson’s General Store came into view. The windows sparkled in the sun, bright, red flowers popping on the steps, while two, old men in long white beards held down the rocking chairs on the porch. They looked like two Confederate veterans, fixtures left over from the Civil War. They nodded appreciatively as Dixie walked by.

  “They should have coffee,” she thought to herself. Everyone up North loved to suck down coffee, any time of day. Personally, she couldn’t stomach the bitter taste the strong brew left in her mouth but that was probably thanks to Owen and the many times he’d given her a slap for getting it wrong. Maybe Jake would be interested in adding a coffee pot for customers to help themselves and something sweet to eat to go with it. Best wait a while before making a suggestion. Today was only the beginning. She had to get her feet wet before diving in to touch bottom. Painted an inviting white with red trim, every time the door opened, a bell rang cheerfully. The glass window on top winked in the sun, allowing people to peek out or in depending on their point of view.

  The air shifted slightly from the fan on the wall. Otherwise it was warm, stick to your skin, can’t breathe kind of warm, and promised to be getting warmer before the day was through. Jake, resting against the counter after unloading heavy boxes, was dripping with sweat and creating a small puddle. His eyes couldn’t help but glow at the sight of who walked through his door, perking him up enough to stand tall. “Well, if my morning didn’t just get the good added to it. How do you do this morning, Miss Dixie?”

  There was friendly humor in his welcome that complemented his easy, drawn out way of talking. It made Dixie want to stretch out on a cool patch of grass with him and listen to him talk for hours. She pulled her thoughts from that direction and focused on the business at hand. “Please, Mr. Jackson, call me Dixie, just plain Dixie. What should I do first?”

  Jake tipped his head, bringing to mind the days of the past when gentlemen like the men on the porch would wear a hat and touch the brim. He did it quietly and in a dignified way, because a true Southern gentleman only had respect for the fairer sex, but always showed definite appreciation. “There’s nothing plain about you, Dixie, not one little thing. As for me, it’s Jake…Mr. Jackson is my daddy. Now, let me bring you up to speed on what you’ll do around here. This here register, she’s an old timer, left over from the War Between the States and it’s right easy to use. There’s a book by the register with prices if any are missing. It also has Mama and Daddy’s cell numbers if in case you have an emergency. That’s it—we like to keep it simple up here. I’ll walk you through the store so you’ll know where everything is. The main thing you need to remember is that we like to make it easy going around here.”

  Jake gave her a crooked smile. Dixie could swear she was starting to drip like an ice pop and would be a melting at any moment. The work here might be simple but being around Jake lee Jackson would definitely be anything but easy. “Come on this way, sugar. I’ll show you what’s what. Don’t worry, darling—I don’t bite.” With a wave of his hand, he led her to the storeroom in back. Dixie felt the heat rise in her face at such a casual, sweet name like “sugar.” She knew it was common in the South, but when Jake said it , she could imagine what it would be like to have someone use such a sweet name just for her. For a girl that had been called much worse and been made to feel like nothing, sugar was sweet to the soul as it was on the tongue. She would not forget.

  “Dixie? Dixie, are you still with me , darlin’?” Jake spoke softly. Instinctively, he somehow knew better than to be loud and abrupt. That wasn’t his style anyway. All he knew was Dixie looked like she was miles away.

  Dixie’s eyes focused on Jake’s then skittered away and she blushed even more hotly at the directions her thoughts had carried her. “I’m here.” She made a concerted effort to pay attention.

  “This here is the storage room where you’ll find everything that’s out on the floor in the shop. I just nearly broke my back dragging in the latest shipment. There’s a cooler all the way in back for our refrigerated and frozen items. Anytime we run out of something out on the floor, look back here. You should find it. Daddy takes pride in keepin’ the place well stocked. He doesn’t want anyone to go without. Things are well organized, thanks to me. I get that from Mama. If something isn’t here or someone asks for something we don’t carry, jot it down in the log at the counter. Daddy ch
ecks it at the end of each day. If you have an emergency, call Daddy’s cell, all right? Mama is always next in line if you can’t get him. Come on out here.”

  They walked out of the store room to a small bathroom with flowers on the sink, air freshener casting out the scent of roses, and neat as a pin. “This store is Mama’s pride and she keeps it that way. She’s been the one doing the tidyin’ up around here but that will be part of your job now. There’s all kinds of cleaning supplies in this closet. If you need anything, tell me.”

  Jake resumed the tour of the store which was well-lit and decorated with a combination of a woman’s touch and Southern heritage. The confederate flag, prints of antebellum belles, plantations, generals and soldiers dressed the walls while memorabilia of the South and Jake’s family was artfully displayed on shelves that bordered the room, high up near the ceiling. Dixie could have spent hours taking it all in. She was fascinated by anyone who had a connection to family since she never had one.

  Owen had stamped it out all prospects of a family. He wouldn’t let Mama talk about her Daddy and there were no surviving relatives. The only thing Mama did manage to pass on to her daughter were tales of her grandma who had lived in Gerrardstown, just outside Dale’s Hollow. Dixie’s great grandmother might have brought Mama here, to Jackson’s General Store, when Mama spent her summers visiting as a little girl.

  “ Dixie, there you go again, gal, miles away. Come back to me so I can show you how to run this dinosaur of a cash register. I’ve been trying to talk Daddy into putting in a computerized system but he says no way, no how, this here is tradition.” Jake led her through how to use the register, showed her a drawer filled with a calculator, writing supplies, a phone book, and the log book for inventory issues. He continued to talk in his slow, measured way, never rushed, with no end to his patience. It was soothing, setting her at ease while she practiced with a mock order and discovered she could do something useful. The tinkling of the bell announced the arrival of a customer; perhaps Dixie would have her first sale.

  A young woman, close to Jake’s age, walked in. She was the picture of a true Southern belle, with long, flowing blonde hair, green cat’s eyes, and a bright sun dress that recalled the frills of old. Her make-up was applied perfectly, her nails were long and painted, and she walked gracefully perched on high heels that made Dixie’s feet hurt to look at them. She was followed by two shadows dressed in similar ways with their noses tipped up to the air in the same fashion.

  “Well, Carole Sue, a good mornin’ to you,” Jake greeted her, the temperature in his voice dropping by several degrees. He nodded curtly at her friends. “Laura Bell, Bobbie Jo. What brings you all in here? You don’t set foot in a measly place like ours too often.”

  Carole Sue surveyed the merchandise and Dixie with obvious disdain. “Mother needs milk for her famous, heavenly cake and she didn’t want to wait.” She paused to let her gaze fall on Dixie then slide away. “It looks like you forgot to take out the trash,” she said with an unbecoming sneer.

  Jake came around the counter and towered over the three girls with his considerable height and a formidable glare, echoes of long-dead generals flaming in his eyes. “I’ll expect you to speak with respect in my store and apologize to my new employee and friend, Miss Dixie Mason. She’s a genuine lady, something you’d never recognize if it was a snake and up and bit you.”

  Carole Sue’s eyebrows crept up to her hairline. “Why Jake, I do declare that I have found a sore spot. I’m so sorry, Miss Mason.” She smiled sweetly but her words dripped with the poison of sarcasm. “Now, Jake, honey, don’t you get yourself all hot and bothered. Be a good boy, run along, and get me that milk, will you?”

  In answer, Jake took two easy steps to the door and opened it. “Oh, I can’t do that, Carole Sue. I’m sorry to tell you we’re clean out of milk. You’ll have to go to Food Lion in Inwood.” He barely refrained from kicking their well-dressed behinds as they went out the door babbling about the imposition and his nerve. They’d never been turned away in their lives. He shifted his gaze to Dixie once they were gone and gave an apologetic shrug of the shoulders. “I’m sorry. They think that they rule this little town. Someone ought to bring them down a few notches, make them learn a lesson in humility.”

  Dixie flushed, embarrassed by his gallantry. She was accustomed to taunts like theirs—her step-father’s and the sharp pokes from boys and girls at school. There was an uncomfortable gnawing in her stomach but it wasn’t from the nasty words and looks. Dixie was not the genuine article that he believed her to be. She resolved that she would give him no reason to regret hiring her or defending her honor.

  “There’s no need to apologize, Jake. I’m used to people like Carole Sue.” She swung around quickly, searching for a way to make herself busy, when she accidentally knocked the staff coffee pot off the counter. There was a crash, glass shattering everywhere. A bloom of coffee stained the floor, splattering all over Jake’s light-colored clothes. Dixie knelt down, her hand flying up instinctively to shield her face. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry. I’m so clumsy! I’ll clean it up, right away!” She scurried away to the bathroom, leaving a dumb-founded Jake behind her. He had no idea what was the matter, only that she’d turned white as a sheet and acted in such a way that he had the sinking suspicion that she thought he would strike her.

  Dixie took refuge in the bathroom, back pressed to the door, and slid to the floor to grip her knees as shudders ran through her, starting at her head and traveling down to her toes. No matter what she told herself, she was four years old again. She had wanted to help Mama to welcome this stranger into their home. She carried a cup of coffee to Owen but tripped and it spilled on his leg. His hand shot out like a striking snake, slapping her cheek and sending her sprawling on the linoleum. Mama went after him for it and she paid while Dixie ran upstairs and hid in the closet, making herself small and tucking herself into a ball. Hours later, when Mama’s sobs had stopped and the sound of Owen’s truck moved further away, Dixie tiptoed out. She climbed up on the step stool to look in the bathroom mirror. A black and blue starfish was stamped over her left eye and the side of her face. When she crawled into bed with Mama, she discovered that their faces matched. It was the first time either one had been struck in anger.

  “Dixie, sugargal…don’t you mind this none, really. I drop the blasted things left and right. We’ve got a stash of extra pots just in case of any catastrophe. I’ve got one that’s already brewing. Please come out. You’re not in trouble over this.” Jake stood outside the door, keeping his voice soft the way he did when gentling a spooked mare back home. Hand pressed to the door, forehead touching the smooth wood surface, he wished he could reach inside and convince her no one meant her any harm.

  Dixie wiped her face, gathered together cleaning supplies, and picked up what was left of her nerves. She squared her shoulders and pasted a smile on her face before stepping out. “I’m sorry about that, really. I’ll try not to make a mess out of things on a daily basis. You can take it out of my pay to replace the coffee pot.” She didn’t meet his eyes, her words coming out in a rush.

  Jake caught her chin and looked into her eyes, pinning her down with nothing but kindness in his soothing tone and touch. “Stop apologizing. It happens to everyone and you don’t owe us anything. It’s all right, really—I’ve been through so many of those pots, Mama says we should take out stock in the company.” He took the cleaning supplies from her hands and started to take care of the spill himself, something Owen never would have stooped to doing. Dixie paused for only a moment, a warm glow spreading inside of her, before she joined him in his efforts. Jake meant what he said, really wasn’t riled up. After her first day was behind her, playing her new part wasn’t so bad. She liked this new girl’s life a whole lot better than the old one. If only she could get rid of the raw spot Mama left behind.

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  Empty beer cans littered the floor. Dishes were piled in the sink and on the counter, dirty clothes strewn about. The owner, sprawled in his recliner, was as unkempt as the house, hair unwashed and five o’clock shadow on his face. Owen scowled at the fuzzy image on the television. The cable had been shut off that morning, leaving only two, lousy channels. The power couldn’t be far behind—no matter. There wasn’t any food to be kept cold anyway. His last six pack sat beside him on the floor. He had half a mind to torch the place and watch it burn to the ground.

  It was all Laura’s fault, leaving him like she did. Damn her! And then there was the girl...he heaved himself up out of the chair and began to pace. God help him, she wouldn’t get away with it. He’d clothed her, fed her, and put a roof over her head for most of her life. Now it was time for her to take care of him. He’d go get her, drag her back here, and keep her in her proper place. He’d use his belt and the fists God gave him if he had to but first, he had to find her.