by Doug Worgul
“Well, I’ve never had somebody sin against me seven times a day. Hell, I never had anybody sin against me seven times total. But that Loretta, LaVerne’s mother, she sinned against Rose almost everyday she was alive. And Rose forgave her every time. It seems foolish to some folks to forgive someone who keeps hurtin’ you over and over like that. But as long as you keep being angry at someone, you can’t ever get on with your life. Your mind can’t be free.
“I’m going to say one more thing, Reverend. And then I’m done. What I want to say is that I know about forgiveness. I was married once. Madeleine was my wife’s name. And I loved her as much as any man ever loved his wife. Her people come from Louisiana, just like mine. And she was like a Tabasco pepper. Small and fiery.
“She worked at the Liberty County courthouse. In the cafeteria. And there was a sheriff’s deputy who had an eye for her. And every time he came through the line he’d say something to her. First it was just harmless things, like ‘Your hair looks nice today’ or ‘What a nice smile you have.’ But then it started gettin’ more personal. The deputy would say things like ‘Darlin’ why don’t you give me a little kiss with my hash browns?’ And then it got worse. He started asking to see her after work. And he tried putting his hands on her. But she wouldn’t have it. She told me all about him when she would get home from work. Most colored girls would be scared. But she was just angry. She wasn’t scared of him, or nobody else for that matter. I told her to be careful, and she just said ‘That deputy is the one who needs to be careful.’
“Well, one day she doesn’t come home from work. I wait for her till it’s night and I drive over to the courthouse to see what’s goin’ on. Well, she wasn’t there. Her boss says she left at the normal time. So I start askin’ around and I see the deputy. Link Thompson was his name. And I ask Link if he seen her. He says he hasn’t. Then he tells me that my wife has got a smart mouth on her and that someday it’s going to get her in trouble. Trouble she may not be able to get out of.
“Few days later they find my Madeleine dead in the Trinity River. Her neck was broken.
“I thought about killin’ that deputy. I thought about killin’ myself. For years I could hardly think of anything else in the daytime and even in the nighttime my mind fixed on it. Nightmares so bad I woke up in a sweat. Screaming, sometimes. My whole self started coming apart. I couldn’t laugh about anything. I couldn’t enjoy music. I didn’t get pleasure from food or whiskey. I was alive on the outside, but dead on the inside.
“Then I started noticing that the deputy was acting the same as me. He’d always been a fun-loving guy. Jokin’ around. Smilin’. Liked to dance. But I saw that he’d become thin and sad and kind of empty lookin’. I couldn’t look at that man without praying to God that he would die. But when I did finally look at him, really look at him, I saw a man who was alone in the world.
“That’s when I changed my prayer. I asked God to help me forgive ol’ Link. So we could both live again. I worried that God would ask me to tell Link face-to-face that I forgave him for killing Madeleine. Because, I didn’t know if I could do that. Because Link would probably say he didn’t do it, and if I heard him say that, I might really kill him. With my bare hands. But God didn’t make me do it face-to-face. He allowed me to do it in my heart. I forgave Deputy Thompson in my heart.
“And when I did, I saw a change in the deputy. Maybe he saw something different in the way I was, and that made him feel better. Not so guilty, maybe. Maybe God whispered in his ear that I had forgiven him. Whatever it was, after a while we were both able to smile and laugh again.
“Everyday I was reminded of what I had lost and how I lost it. The deputy married a pretty girl from over in Cleveland, Texas. They had a couple of pretty daughters that both went to the school where I was a janitor. I saw them every day. If I held on to all my hate and rage I’d never be able to look at those little girls and see them as innocent little girls, which is what they were. I would only ever see them as coming from the man who killed my Madeleine. I didn’t want to live the rest of my life seeing the world through angry eyes.”
Delbert was tired. His face was puffy and his hands shook as he brought his glass to his lips.
“So I know about forgiveness, Reverend. It ain’t easy. But I recommend it.”
Rev. Newton took a deep breath. He spoke quietly. “I’m a proud man. Too proud, some say. But you shame me with your story, Brother Delbert.”
Delbert shook his head.
“I didn’t come here to shame you, Pastor. I came here to help LaVerne. He feels hopeless. But you, more than anyone else in his life, can convince him that there is hope, if you tell him that you believe in him and that you’ll help him get his life back together. He expects forgiveness and encouragement from Angela and from me. But if you take him back, he’ll know he really can come back. And he’ll work hard the rest of his life to prove that you didn’t make a mistake by letting him back in.”
Rev. Newton looked down into his empty glass. He wanted more, but thought better of it. “I guess we need a plan then,” he said.
*
Josh Davidson and LaVerne Williams lay on their bunks in their cell. Josh bounced a tennis ball against the wall, catching it on the rebound first with his left hand then with his right. Typically this drove LaVerne nuts, but he was reading a letter—for the third time though—from his father-in-law, the Rev. Dr. Clarence Newton. When he was finished, he put the letter down and stared at the ceiling.
Josh was intrigued. “So, you going to tell me who that letter’s from and what it says?”
LaVerne kept looking at the ceiling. “You going to quit bouncing that damn ball?”
Josh caught the ball and held it.
“It’s from my father-in-law, the Rev. Dr. Clarence Newton,” LaVerne said.
Josh bounced the ball once and caught it. “That’s kind of a surprise, isn’t it?”
LaVerne continued looking at the ceiling. “That’s puttin’ it lightly.”
Josh bounced and caught the ball again. “And?”
LaVerne smiled. And something caused him to remember that his uncle’s truck smelled of German mustard, coffee, and 3-in-1 oil when Delbert came to pick him up and take him home after Nate Jones had punched him and knocked him down, when Junebug moved to Detroit.
“He wonders if I might have any interest in the restaurant business when I get out. Seems there’s a lady in his church who needs some help in her barbecue joint.”
Josh bounced the ball against the wall. LaVerne flicked his hand out and caught it.
39
From the Shadows
Four blocks south of Kansas City’s ritzy Country Club Plaza shopping and dining district is Jacob L. Loose Memorial Park—a seventy-four acre rectangle of grassy slopes strewn with tall oaks and gnarled evergreens. Along the east side of the park is a pond, and on the day that A.B. Clayton and Jen Richardson finally got around to discussing the possibility that they were in love, there was a lone Canada goose gliding slowly and silently on the pond. A.B. watched the goose stretch its neck as he sat with Jen on a bench by the water’s edge, feeling his heart fill with joy and fear.
“You snuck up on me, Jen,” he said. “I thought we was just friends, then all of a sudden I realize we’re not just friends. We’re a lot more than that. I might’ve recognized it sooner, except that nothing like this has ever happened to me before.”
Jen took A.B.’s hand. She spoke softly and seriously.
“You’re right, A.B. I did sneak up on you. I knew I couldn’t come at you head on, or else I’d scare you away. I had to come at you from the side.”
She felt his hand get warm. “Nothing like this has ever happened to me either, A.B.”
A.B. was quiet. He was worried he would cry if he tried to say anything. Or that he would get the hiccups. Jen noted the swipe of white that ran under the goose’s chin and up
the sides of its face, and how bright it was.
“I just thought I’d be alone in my life,” A.B. said, finally. “You know, except for LaVerne and Angela. But here you are.”
Jen smiled and nodded. “Yep. Here I am.”
They held hands and walked around the pond then up along Wornall Street, turning west on 52nd. As they approached the rose garden in the northwest corner of the park, Jen punched A.B. lightly in the shoulder.
“I bet I know more about Jacob L. Loose Memorial Park than you do,” she stated confidently.
A.B. snorted. “Which is a safe bet, since I know exactly nothing. I didn’t even know the Jacob L. or Memorial parts until just this second. I always thought it was just Loose Park. Like the opposite of Tight Park or something.”
Jen laughed. “I wrote a research paper for my history class at Penn Valley. For example, I know that the landscape architects who designed the park were Sidney J. Hare and his son S. Herbert Hare. And the rose garden here was planted in 1931, and there are more than 4,000 roses and 150 different kinds. And the Battle of Westport was fought here. Right here on this land. It was the most important and bloodiest battle of the Civil War fought west of the Mississippi. And Buffalo Bill Cody and Wild Bill Hickok both fought for the Union in the battle, which the Union won.”
She smiled a self-satisfied smile. She looked at A.B. He was looking out onto the expanse of grass.
A.B. shook his head. “Don’t you think it’s kinda weird, like in a sad way, that a hundred years ago, or whatever it was, that soldiers died here in some terrible battle, that their blood was in this dirt, and here we are now, today, you and me, in this same place, being really happy?”
*
It was 10:30 on a Tuesday, just as Smoke Meat was opening for the day when Ute Johansson showed up with Tony David, founder and CEO of the Great USA Barbeque Company.
A.B. was in back taking a delivery from Rocco’s Produce. LaVerne, who was at the smoker turning briskets, heard the door open and turned to look. He remembered Ute Johansson from their previous encounter and recognized Tony David from his company’s Web site. The men stepped up to the counter, smiling expectantly. Tony David examined the menu board. Ute Johansson looked around the dining room. LaVerne ignored them.
Several minutes later, during which time LaVerne had still not acknowledged the presence of anyone in the restaurant other than himself and A.B., A.B. came in from the back and saw the two men at the counter. He frowned and addressed LaVerne in a hushed tone.
“Boss, you probably didn’t realize there’s customers out front.”
He pointed, in case LaVerne needed help remembering where out front was.
“Those are not customers,” LaVerne snapped. “Those are the sons of bitches that want to shut us down.”
A.B. looked at the men at the counter, then back at LaVerne, his face scrunched in anxiety.
“Just the same, boss, they’re standin’ there.”
LaVerne kept his back turned and said nothing.
A.B. went out and greeted the men. “May I help you?”
Ute Johansson spoke, louder than he needed to, looking past A.B. to where LaVerne had turned his attention to the ribs in the smoker.
“We just came by to introduce ourselves. You guys have got a good reputation here locally and we wanted to see what you’re all about. Seems like maybe you’ve heard things about some of our plans for this block and have made up your mind about them without even hearing what we have to say.”
A.B. stood mute. Tony David chimed in, trying to project his voice back into the kitchen where LaVerne was.
“Mr. Williams, I’m Tony David. I own a chain of barbecue restaurants. The Great USA Barbeque Company. Maybe you’ve heard of us. We’re seriously considering locating a unit here in Kansas City. I’ve researched this market, Mr. Williams. I know you’re one of the best operators in town. I have a lot of respect for you. I’d love the opportunity to meet you. You know, talk shop a little. Talk about the biz. No reason we can’t be friendly competitors. A little friendly competition is good for everybody in the game. Right, Mr. Williams? You’re an old ball player. You know that. Keeps everybody sharp. No reason we can’t all get along. It’s a big enough pie that we can all get a piece.”
LaVerne had heard enough. He swung around, letting the smoker door slam shut behind him, then walked slowly and purposefully into the kitchen, like he was walking from the dugout into the batter’s box. He walked past Tony David stopping in front of Ute Johansson, his chest nearly touching Ute’s.
“Why don’t you just admit why you’re really here? It’s to get a good look, isn’t it? Like when you look at the bug on the sidewalk just before you stomp on it. I heard you talk to Bob Dunleavy like you and him are friends. Like you two are in the same business. But I know better. You and Bob Dunleavy aren’t friends. He likes building things. You like owning things. And if you can’t own it, you don’t care about it. You just as soon destroy it.”
LaVerne turned to Tony David. “And you. You talk about friendly competition, but coming here, into my place, with a man you know has plans to shut me down? What kind of ‘friendly’ is that? And as far as competition goes, let me just say this, if you plan on opening a ‘unit’ anywhere near here you better shut me down, because folks may stop in once or twice to try whatever it is you serve at your ‘unit’, but once they come in here and taste some of my real barbecue, they’ll never go back to the Great USA Barbeque Company. I’m telling you that. So you can shove your legendary ribs up your pearly white Wisconsin ass.”
Tony David swallowed hard and decided not to say anything at the moment.
Ute Johansson, however, had plenty to say. He glared at LaVerne.
“Downtown is coming back, my friend. And we’re going to be a part of it. What you think of us is irrelevant. People who visit Kansas City and visit downtown are going to expect barbecue. That’s what Kansas City is known for, and that’s what we’re going to give them. But this place of yours, this little place of yours just won’t do it. It won’t cut it. Get real. You only seat 44 people. Hell, we’ll seat more than that at one of our bars. And we’ll have three bars and two dining rooms. We’re going to give people a barbecue experience. That’s what we’re going to call it, in fact. The Barbeque Experience. Big, clean, entertaining.”
Tony David felt obliged to fill in the details at this point. “Of course, we’re going to be respectful of Kansas City’s barbecue tradition. We’ve hired a top decorator to help us create the ambience of an authentic Kansas City barbecue joint. Plus, as I understand it, Ute’s plan includes a nice compensation and relocation package for businesses in the development area. Considerably above fair market value. You could set up shop anywhere. Maybe build a new place. Maybe retire.”
LaVerne looked him in the eye.
“Eat shit,” he said, then he went into the kitchen, got a beer from the refrigerator and went out back by the dumpster to drink it. A.B. nodded emphatically as he watched LaVerne go. LaVerne’s righteous anger had riled him up. He turned to the men at the counter.
“Furthermore, go to hell,” he said. “And don’t come back.”
Ute Johansson shrugged, turned and walked out. Tony David shook his head sadly and followed.
A.B. went out back, lit up a cigarette, and stood with LaVerne while he finished his beer.
*
That evening, A.B. and Warren had planned to go help Jen and the band set up for a gig with Mother Mary at the Blue Room down at 18th and Vine.
Warren seemed to enjoy unloading and loading the equipment. He nodded when Jen and the other members of the band joked around. And he smiled and murmured to himself “There she is” when Pug rolled Mother into the room in her wheelchair. But mostly he liked sitting behind the stage with A.B. during the band’s performances. Usually he just closed his eyes and listened, sometimes rocking slowly back and fo
rth. Sometimes he’d say things like “That’s a good song” or “She sang that one last month, but not the time before.” And once in awhile he would say a word that sounded like “marli” which A.B. didn’t know the meaning of and preferred not to.
The first few times Warren went with A.B. to help with the band, they went together in A.B.’s car, with M.Z. Owen—the Vietnam vet Bob Dunleavy had hired to watch over Warren—following behind them in his black Land Rover Defender. But when Warren started helping on a regular basis, M.Z. offered to drive. This was a beneficial arrangement for all involved. There was a lot more room in the Defender for Jen’s drums, and M.Z. could keep closer watch over Warren. Plus, M.Z. liked Mother’s music.
Jen called M.Z. “Mike.” She said having to call one man in her life by his initials was fine, but two was too many.
After Smoke Meat closed for the night, Warren and Jen tried to hurry A.B. along by helping put the chairs up on the tables in the dining room, while Mike stood outside by the Defender.
“Why are you movin’ so slow tonight, dude?” Jen teased A.B. “If we don’t get going soon, Pug’s going to come down here and march us over to the club at gunpoint.”
A.B. tried to smile. “Sorry. We had a disturbance here this afternoon, and it’s on my mind.”
He told them about the confrontation with Ute Johansson and Tony David.
“I thought LaVerne was going to smack one of those guys,” he said. “The whole thing is scary. What if they really are going to shut us down? What’ll LaVerne do? What will I do? I never worked anywhere else. I don’t know how to do anything but this.”
Warren had been smiling and nodding at Jen’s teasing, but this turn of events upset him. He shook his head and grunted and looked at the floor. A.B. turned off the lights and locked the restaurant. Mike held open the front door of the Defender for Warren, and Jen opened the back door and got in. As A.B. started to slide in next to Jen, a smallish man stepped out of the shadows at the corner of the building and said “A.B. Clayton?” Then he took a step closer.
