The Girl from Felony Bay

by J. E. Thompson

  “I’m not your girlfriend. And I don’t want to fight.”

  He had kept coming as he talked, and now he was very close, just one step away.

  “Jimmy, I just said I don’t want to fight you.”

  “You don’t, huh?” He reached out and gave my shoulder a hard shove. “You miss me?”

  I could feel sorry for somebody for just so long. The shove finished it. “I didn’t miss you the last time,” I said, looking at the scab on his nose. “Want another scab?”

  Jimmy laughed. “You don’t wanna fight ’cause you ain’t got that old crippled lady to protect you. She hit me with a shovel. I ain’t forgetting that.”

  “Then you won’t forget this either,” I said, and I hit him four times, twice in the mouth and twice in the nose. I really am faster than a scalded lizard, but I’m even faster when I’m mad. Jimmy never saw any of them coming.

  I saw blood on his face, but I couldn’t tell how badly I had hurt him because his arms came up and he grabbed for me. Knowing he would choke me if he got the chance, I jumped back and dodged sideways, thinking I’d run back into the library. The only problem was that my foot slipped off the edge of a step.

  I caught myself, but as I straightened up, Jimmy was on me. I felt his hands around my neck and felt a jolt of fear as I remembered the last time he’d gotten me in a choke hold. I tried to tell Bee to run away and call for help, but Jimmy’s grip was already too tight.

  I heard Bee’s voice, not from far away where she should have been but from up very close. “Hey,” she said, “let her go.”

  Jimmy kept squeezing my throat. I was trying to get a grip on one of his fingers and bend it back, but he was too strong.

  “Let go!” Bee said again. Only this time her voice was followed by a loud, hollow thump. I knew it was the sound of her cane landing on Jimmy’s flesh.

  Jimmy’s fingers relaxed, and I pulled in a deep breath and then used all my strength to break away. I staggered sideways until my hip hit the other railing, and then I looked at Bee, who was holding her cane cocked over her shoulder like a baseball bat.

  Jimmy was bent over, holding his hand over the top of his head and making a sound that was someplace between a moan and a snort of anger. I also knew he wasn’t done fighting. Jimmy Simmons wasn’t going to get beaten by two girls, never ever, not if he could help it.

  “Nice shot, Bee,” I said. “But you gotta get out of here.”

  I heard the sound of a car horn just as Jimmy straightened up. “You’re dead, Force,” he growled, fixing his angry eyes on me. “You’re both dead.” The horn sounded a second time. It was close by. I risked a glance down toward the street and saw that Grandma Em had pulled up in front of the library. She had her window down, and she was looking up in anger and amazement.

  I looked back at Jimmy, who was coming at me again. I faked like I was going to try to escape down the steps, then I threw a quick jab into his nose as I jumped away from the railing.

  Jimmy started to go for my fake, but he managed to slam my shoulder with a wild punch as I dodged. It sent shock waves of pain all down my arm.

  The horn honked a third time, longer, this time followed by Grandma Em’s voice, loud and clear and deep and full of authority. “Stop right there, young man! You girls get in this car right this second!”

  Jimmy stopped and glared down at Grandma Em, and I could see the energy flow out of his shoulders. My arm was killing me, but I made a point of giving him a smile as I went past.

  “Bye-bye, boyfriend.”

  Bee and I walked down the steps and climbed into the back of Grandma Em’s car. I didn’t say anything as we drove away, but when we stopped at the traffic light, Grandma Em turned and stared at us.

  “When I was a young lady, it was generally frowned upon to hit a young man,” she said after a long silence.

  “Yes, Grandma,” Bee said.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said.

  “However,” she said, her eyes starting to twinkle, “in the event it was necessary, it was thought to be important to throw a good punch. Nice jab, Abbey.”

  Thirteen

  At dinner that night, Uncle Charlie seemed as full of whiskey breath and unpleasantness as ever. His small eyes touched on me as I sat down, but appearing to see nothing on which he needed to comment, they went to his food. Just as they had the other night, Ruth brought a bottle of wine out to the table, and they clicked glasses and shared a private smirk.

  I watched out of the corner of my eye as Uncle Charlie shoveled his dinner, thinking about how he had tried to talk Grandfather into giving him Felony Bay, and failing that how he had kicked Mrs. Middleton off the property when Grandfather was dying, and how a year ago he had taken out all the books from the library about Felony Bay and the Lovely Clarisse gold.

  I also thought about the wine and the smirking and the Bubba Simmons late-night visit, and I was starting to realize that something inside Uncle Charlie had changed. He was feeling very cocky. Whatever his secret was, it certainly wasn’t making him any nicer, which might have been the reason I hadn’t noticed it earlier.

  I ate Ruth’s warmed-up, canned slop as fast as I could, then asked to be excused. I took my plate and started to head toward the kitchen, and that’s when it happened. As I walked past him, Uncle Charlie turned in his chair and gave me a smack on the back of my head that was so sharp, it brought tears to my eyes. I spun around, wanting to smash my plate over him and barely holding back.

  “That’s what it feels like to get sucker punched, Squib. Didn’t like it, did you?”

  “What are you talking about?” I managed, trying not to let him see how close I was to tears.

  “You think I don’t know what you do? I’m talking about Jimmy Simmons. You sucker punched the boy again, didn’t you? You and that rich black girl you hang around with.”

  “You don’t know anything,” I said. Then I turned and went to the kitchen and let the door swing closed behind me. I stood with my hands braced against the sink and got my breathing under control, then I wiped away the tears that had gathered in the corners of my eyes and started to do the dishes. I used the mindless activity to swallow my anger and hold back the questions and accusations that had been trying to boil their way off my tongue all through dinner.

  I was dying to tell Uncle Charlie that I knew about the Felony Bay land and that he wasn’t getting away with anything. I wanted to ask him how he could have thrown a poor, defenseless woman off land that was rightfully hers. I wanted to ask him how he could lower himself to work with somebody as crude and cruel as Bubba Simmons. And I wanted to ask him how he was ever going to live with himself if he actually found a treasure that by all rights ought to belong to someone else.

  The next morning I woke up as sweaty and wrung out as if I had run a couple of miles. It was because of the dream I’d had, which had made me feel like I hadn’t slept at all. In it, Bee and I had snuck back to Felony Bay, and as we crept along the path that led to the beach and the old cabin, we had heard the sound of the same machine we’d heard the other day. But when we got to the end of the trail where we could see the beach from the edge of the undergrowth, there hadn’t been any machine. Rather, we had seen Uncle Charlie and Jimmy Simmons and Jimmy’s father all using shovels to dig a line of gigantic holes. They were working like crazy people and yelling at one another to hurry up.

  But that’s when I saw they weren’t just digging. They were also burying two objects that lay on the ground beside one of the holes. One of the objects moved, and when I looked more carefully, I could see Mrs. Middleton and Skoogie tied up and gagged. It didn’t make any sense, but dreams don’t have to make sense. I was scared to death. I knew time was running out and that Bee and I had to stop the diggers from getting whatever they were after and from burying Mrs. Middleton and Skoogie.

  Despite how hard everyone was focused on digging their holes, every few minutes Jimmy’s father would stop and put down his shovel. Then he would walk over and slap Jimm
y on the back of the head. Jimmy would try to protect himself and start to cry. As it kept happening, I could see that Jimmy was getting angrier and angrier, but there was no way he could stop his father. And just like earlier that day outside the library, I actually felt sorry for Jimmy.

  When I finally opened my eyes, I realized one other thing about the dream. It had been in color, and the main color had been red. I remembered the last two times I had seen color in my dreams, and the bad things that had happened soon after to a person I loved. Only this time I had a feeling that something was different. This time I was pretty sure the bad thing was going to happen to me, and whatever it was, it was going to happen pretty darn soon.

  If that was true, there were two things I needed to think about. First, if I was going to keep myself from getting hurt, I had to keep looking over my shoulder and be extra alert in everything I did. Second, I had to figure out what to do about Bee. I wasn’t going to let her get hurt for trying to help me. Finding out what had really happened to Daddy, and discovering the truth about what was going on at Felony Bay, were my jobs, not hers.

  I had learned the previous afternoon as we drove back to Reward from Charleston that Bee and Grandma Em were flying to Atlanta this morning because Bee had doctors’ appointments over the next two days for her knee and shoulder. That would keep her out of harm’s way for now, but when she returned I would need to come up with some way to keep her safe. All I could think of was to tell her we couldn’t hang around together anymore, but I hated the idea, because it would hurt her feelings and because she really was my new best friend. Which was worse, I wondered, hurting my friend’s feelings a little or maybe letting her do something where she might get hurt in a lot more serious way?

  I rolled over onto my stomach and pulled the pillow over my head. For several minutes I considered trying to go back to sleep in hopes that I could have another dream. If I had a normal dream, I might be able to forget my first one. And maybe if that happened, the first one wouldn’t come true.

  But then I thought about all the questions and accusations I’d been choking back the night before and the risk of running into Uncle Charlie at breakfast if I slept any later. If I saw him, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my mouth shut, but my dream had taught me that keeping my mouth shut around him was even more important than usual.

  Because of that, I forced myself to sit up and put my feet on the floor, trying to wake up. Rufus helped by coming over and giving me a big lick, and I finally managed to get my eyes all the way open and get dressed. Rufus and I snuck downstairs, bolted our usual quick breakfasts, then headed to the pasture to get the horses and do my chores.

  On our way to the barn, Rufus raced through the corn and sniffed for scents in the early dew. I was glad that at least one of us was feeling cheerful this morning. In addition to being dead tired, I was also feeling lonely and already missing Bee.

  I was trying to convince myself that having her gone was actually a good thing. Maybe I could get everything figured out by the time she got back, I told myself, but I knew it was just wishful thinking. The more thinking I did, the more complicated everything seemed.

  For example, when I thought about the dates when Uncle Charlie borrowed the books from the library and when Daddy had filed the separate deed for Felony Bay and then the date of his accident, I couldn’t help but see how close together they were. But did it mean anything? Try as hard as might, I couldn’t see any real connection between Miss Lydia Jenkins’s jewelry and gold and the Lovely Clarisse and Mrs. Middleton. Even more, if I managed to figure everything out, what was I going to do about it?

  For starters, if Daddy really did want to give Mrs. Middleton’s land back to her, how was I going to help with that? What adult was going to help make that happen? Custis? What about his job working for Force & Barrett? I was pretty sure Mr. Barrett wouldn’t like him helping me. After all, the law firm had only been able to stay in business because they’d been able to pay back Miss Jenkins. If something I did made it look like the Felony Bay land should never have been sold, a lot of lawyers were going to be unhappy, maybe even Custis.

  I shook my head, trying to clear out the mental snarls that seemed to form every time I thought about how complicated everything was. One thing was clear. If I was going to get anywhere, I needed to do things just the way Daddy would have. I needed to get more facts. I would use the time while Bee was gone to get back into town and see if Custis had gotten the answers he promised. Also I wanted to talk to two more people who I thought might be able to help me work the plan that was slowly forming in my brain.

  I thought about all those things as I mucked out the stalls. I was just finishing when I looked up and saw Grandma Em framed in the bright sunlight at the opening of the barn. For a second I worried that something bad might have happened to Bee, and I trotted straight toward her.

  “Morning,” Grandma Em said.

  “I thought you and Bee had left already,” I said. “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine. We leave in just a few minutes. Bee’s up at the house getting packed.”

  I nodded, but I was confused. If everything was fine, why was she here?

  “I don’t mean to stop you from your work,” she said. “Please keep on.”

  I nodded and started spraying the horses with fly spray. Grandma Em sat on an old folding chair nearby.

  “You just came down here to watch me?” I asked.

  She shrugged like there was nothing special on her mind, but I could tell that there was. I worked and let the silence stretch.

  Out of the corner of my eye I watched her scrunch up her face, look off in the distance for a long moment, then nod as if she’d just come to a decision. “You know,” she said, “I just wanted to come down here this morning to tell you how pleased I am that you and Bee have become such good friends.”

  “There’s no need to thank me. We just like each other.”

  “I know. . . . I’m just saying I think it’s great.”

  I turned and looked at Grandma Em as she tried to figure out what to say next. I realized that she felt terribly awkward about something, but I had no idea what it was.

  “I know that sometimes, when you’re twelve or thirteen, friends can be moody or fickle. Someone can be your friend one day and not the next. They can—” Grandma Em pursed her lips. She took a deep breath and blew it out. “The reason I thought I should talk to you today has to do with Bee’s family. Did she ever mention her mother and brother?”

  I shook my head.

  “I suspected as much. Perhaps I should let her tell you this in her own time and in her own words, but I also think for her own good that I should tell you now.”

  She glanced up at me, then away again into the distance. “Something very tragic happened to Bee, and I think you may be able to relate, because I know some hard things have happened in your own life.”

  I felt anxious all of a sudden, as if I was about to discover something I might not want to know about my friend. “Go on,” I said.

  Grandma Em nodded. “One day last March, Bee’s mother was driving both Bee and Bee’s brother when she had what the doctors later said was a massive heart attack. She probably blacked out immediately. Anyway, the car went across the median into the oncoming lane and was hit by a large truck.”

  I shook my head. “That’s terrible,” I managed.

  “Yes, it was. Bee’s brother was killed instantly, and her mother was in a coma for several days before she died. Bee herself was badly injured.”

  My heart was beating very fast. I was thinking of everything I had lost in the past year, but how Bee had lost even more. At least my father was still alive, even if he was in a coma.

  “Bee was extremely traumatized by what happened. Apparently she and her brother had been having some kind of fight when the accident took place, and she blamed herself for what happened. That’s nonsense, of course, and I’ve told her so, so many times. But she still feels guilty.”
r />   “That’s why she won’t talk about her mother?”

  “Yes. Bee had always been a very happy young girl, but after the accident, something changed. She even stopped talking altogether for several months. I think her father bought Reward so quickly because he wanted to give Bee a pleasant new place that would allow her to get away from her old memories. When Bee agreed to go to the hospital with you the other day, I don’t think you can understand how much courage that took on her part. It was a reminder of what happened to her mother and brother.”

  I nodded, remembering how Bee had become strangely silent on our way to visit Daddy. “You never said anything at the time.”

  “No.”

  “Why doesn’t Bee’s father ever come here?” I asked.

  Grandma Em let out a snort, as if she was laughing at something that wasn’t really funny. “He’s my son, and I’ve asked myself that same question many times, why he hasn’t been with his daughter much at all since the accident. I don’t know for sure, but here’s what I think: I think that when certain people suffer terrible losses, like losing a big part of their family in a car accident, it can make the world start to look like a place of danger and fear rather than a place of joy. I think my son has lost so much that he lives in fear that another terrible thing might happen and that it might happen to Bee. Right now, I don’t think he could survive that, and I think he has been staying very busy with his new company in India so that he doesn’t have to confront his fear.”

  “In other words it’s easier to stay away from Bee than to be with her?”

  Grandma Em nodded. “Even though he loves her very much. Or better said, because he loves her so much. Like a lot of people, my son believes that by giving Bee a lovely home and a safe and beautiful place to live, he is giving her everything she needs. He believes that all the money makes up for him not being around. He is wrong, of course, and I have told him as much. But he needs to come to that realization on his own.”