Deep in the Heart of Dixie
Page 33
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Jake sat in his truck, about to turn the key in the ignition, when something made him stop. He didn’t know what it was—a feeling in his gut, a prickling of the hair on the nape of his neck, an indescribable shiver as his blood suddenly went from hot to cold—but whatever it was made him hit the ground at a run. He didn’t even knock on Dixie’s door, just yanked it open, and plowed inside. Her place was dark and quiet, like she slept yet something was wrong, horribly wrong, filling him with a dread that pushed him through her living room and into her bedroom. He found her, cowering on the floor in a pool of moonlight. A monster—no other word did him justice—stood over her, her hair wrapped around his hand like nothing more than a rope for him to yank. “Get away from her, you scum!” Jake shouted and a haze of red clouded his vision. A damned Yankee had come to rob a piece of the South again. No matter who Dixie had been before, she belonged to the Land of Cotton now, had made Jake her own, and she was his. If there was one creed Jake lived and would die by, it was ‘Mind Your Own.’ Thankful for years of playing football, Jake hurled himself at Dixie’s step-father with the power of a linebacker.
If Owen’s outward appearance gave the impression of weakness, it was misleading. His height, but more so his mean spirit, gave him strength. He let go of Dixie long enough to intercept her defender’s charge and raise his bottle high, bringing the thick glass down on Jake’s head like a club. Jake dropped to the floor with a sickening thud like a rock hitting bottom, a bloom of blood forming on his forehead before trailing into the carpet. Dixie’s scream rang out in the night.
That instant, seeing Jake cut down, made Dixie reach deep inside to find her courage. She scrambled out of the bedroom, her knowledge of the layout to her advantage in the darkness. This was her home turf. She streaked into the living room and picked up the bat that Jake had given her for their next trip to the ball park. Gripped in hands made slick with sweat, she fought to control their trembling. She would have one chance to take him by surprise. She raced back to the bedroom, glanced at Jake in a crumpled heap on her floor, and felt herself boiling over with rage. Owen turned away from the boy at the same moment that the bat came down with a crack on his head. “Have a taste of your own medicine! I won’t let you hurt him again and you’re not going to hurt me anymore!” Dixie’s voice raised in volume and pitch.
Owen staggered to his feet, somehow still conscious, and wove his way to the door. Dixie came on, right behind him, hefting the bat for round two. He managed to stumble outside and fell down the steps to find himself surrounded by the park tenants. Roused by Dixie’s cry, they had gathered to come to her aid but for the time being left it to the embodiment of ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’ to handle him.
Dixie stood over the poor excuse for a man, wind whipping her fiery curls around her face. All the years of hurting, the injustice, the anger became a wild hurricane in her eyes. She was no longer a child and there would be no bowing down. Dixie raised the bat, ready to strike. “How does it feel, Owen? How do you like having someone stronger and bigger standing over you, ready to hurt you, someone who has taken everything away from you that matters? It doesn’t feel good and you’re never going to do anything to me or anyone I care about again. It’s your turn to do some hurting.” She drew the bat back, the need to make him pay for everything he had done to her and Mama, giving her a strength beyond measure. Sue Ellen stepped out of the crowd and touched Dixie’s hand, watched reason come back to her friend as the piece of wood slipped from fingers gone numb.
“Don’t you worry yourself none, mam. He’s going to pay, that’s for sure. Mmmhmm, what goes around comes around.” Thelma Louise hovered over Owen, a large rock in her hand, ready if needed. The others gathered around, shouting their agreement, the men forming a ring of indignation. They would not allow him to touch Dixie or any woman. Flashing lights of red and blue announced the arrival of a police car summoned by a concerned neighbor. A police officer took charge of the situation and Owen was cuffed. Dixie waited long enough to watch that threat removed, uncertain she could trust her eyes.
“Jake,” a voice whispered in her mind. Dixie rushed back inside and turned on the lights to find his pale and unconscious form in a sprawl on the floor, still bleeding. She knelt down and stroked his cheek, her hands trembling. “Jake, I’m so sorry. Please be all right, Jake. I’ll never forgive myself for bringing him here when I ran away. Please…Jake…please.” Her voice broke and she buried her face in her hands.
There was a feather touch on her leg. “Hey,” he whispered weakly. His head pounded like nothing he’d ever felt before until he thought it would split. He sat up and the whole world began to spin. Dixie caught him in her arms as he started to sway. “You…you all right, Dixie Cup?”
Although in much worse shape, he still put her first. Dixie laid a hand on his cheek. “Sshh, I’m fine. You distracted him before he could hurt me but Jake, I’m so sorry for what he did to you. That never should have happened.”
His hand came up to cradle her head and he leaned into her, let her soft, sweetness be a welcome support. “Whatever it took to stop him was worth it, whatever the cost. I’ve got a hard head. A little bump isn’t too much to ask if it will help you. I’d do it all over again. Just right now, will you catch me if I fall?”
“I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Jake Lee Jackson, but I’m not ever going to let go of you.” She wrapped her arms around him and laid his head on her shoulder. They were still on the floor, gently rocking, when Thelma Louise and Sue Ellen came in to make sure everything was all right. One knowing look and they stepped outside. For the first time in her life, there was no more darkness in Dixie’s world. No more hiding, no more running, no more pretending to be someone else. Dixie Mason had walked through the fire and come out the other side to be who she was and no one else for the rest of her life.