On the way home, I stopped at a convenience store to buy milk. While I dug cash out of my wallet, a Wal-Mart receipt fell out onto the counter. I almost wadded it up before noticing the writing on the back.
My list.
I picked it up, staring in disbelief. In all the confusion, I’d forgotten about it.
“Do you want me to throw that away?” the clerk asked.
“No, that’s okay…” I mumbled and carefully tucked it into my wallet. I’d figure out what to do with it later.
After I got home, I decided to search for Momma’s will. I knew she had one made after Daddy died and I suspected it was in the lockbox in her bedroom closet. I couldn’t believe Violet hadn’t thought of it, but she probably figured she’d have to deal with me to read it. She never returned my phone call from the night before and she hadn’t called to check on my attorney appointment.
The dusty box was on the floor in the closet, hidden behind a stack of empty shoe boxes. Inside, I found a stack of papers and pulled them out one by one. Momma and Daddy’s marriage license. Daddy’s death certificate. The deed to the house. At the bottom was a large envelope labeled “Last Will and Testament of Agnes Gardner.” I opened the flap and pulled out a bundle of papers, all stapled together. I read the legalese, wondering if anyone really understood any of it, until I got several pages in and found Violet’s name. Bequeathed to Violet Mae Gardner Beauregard was all Momma’s money, her house and all its furnishings.
Everything.
The room became fuzzy and I worried I’d pass out and hit my head again. I put my head between my knees, gasping for air. Had she hated me so much that she left me nothing?
When the threat of fainting faded, I sat up and reexamined the page, sure I’d misread it. But I hadn’t. Violet got everything.
I turned the page looking for my name. I found it the next page over. Rose Anne Gardner received a carved wooden box located in Momma’s closet. A wood box?
I found it in the top shelf of her closet, a small wooden trunk about fifteen inches long and eight inches wide. It reminded me of a miniature pirate’s chest with a tiny padlock holding it closed. I searched Momma’s drawers for a key, coming up with nothing. It was fairly light so I knew it couldn’t be packed with money. In fact, if I hadn’t heard a small clunking sound, I would have wondered if it held anything at all.
I stared at the grimy chest, my inheritance, and realized in the matter of only a few days I had lost everything.
SEVEN
After the initial shock wore off, I got up to fix myself dinner only to discover I’d left the milk out on the counter. I slid the container on the top shelf and noticed a six-pack of beer, two of the bottles gone. I bent over, hanging on the door as I peeked in and tried to figure out how they got there. Momma never allowed The Devil’s Brew in the house. Uncle Earl must have brought them and forgotten them.
I set the carton on the counter, staring at it like it was an alien pod dropped off in my fridge, about to pop out a gremlin at any moment. Because I knew something like that was bound to happen; Momma said nothing good ever came from a bottle of beer.
At the thought of Momma, my rebellion broke loose and burst out, filling me with thoughts of evilness. I pulled a beer out of the box and turned it in my hands. How could one little brown bottle be a fount of wickedness? In that moment, I decided if it was wicked, I was going to drink it. It took me nearly a full minute to figure out how to get the metal cap off and once I did, I held it in front of me. This was it. The moment I embraced evil. I took a big swig, then coughed and gagged, spewing out liquid like the cherub fountain in Mildred’s backyard. Thank goodness I was standing in front of the sink.
So maybe a big gulp wasn’t such a good idea.
I placed the bottle to my lips and took a tiny sip, my tongue protesting. The cold beer slid down my throat and warmed my stomach. How was that possible? Maybe it was Devil’s Brew, especially since the only explanation I could come up with was magic.
Carrying the carton in one hand and my bottle of the Fount of Wickedness in the other, I went out the front door and plopped in one of the rarely used rocking chairs on the front porch. I briefly considered what the neighbors would think. Then I decided it didn’t matter. I probably wouldn’t live here much longer anyway.
After several more tiny sips, I marveled at the magical warmness spreading through my gut. My arms and legs became tingly and I thought my head was gonna float right off my body. The cares of the world suddenly didn’t seem so bad. As I got used to the taste of it, my sips got bigger and the next thing I knew, it was empty.
I felt happy and carefree. If one bottle of beer could do that, I could only imagine how wonderful I would feel with two.
With some effort, I twisted the top off the second bottle and took a big swig. I sat watching the leaves of the trees in the front yard blow in the breeze.
“Rose?” Joe asked, sounding stunned. “What are you doing?”
I turned my head. He stood at the edge of the porch with my purse in his hand. I lifted the bottle up to show him. “I’m drinkin’ a beer.” I giggled then took another sip.
He climbed the steps and sat in the rocker next to me, setting my purse on the floor between us. “Yeah, I can see that. I thought you didn’t drink.”
I giggled again. “I don’t, well, I didn’t. But that was the old me; this is the new me and the new me drinks beer.” I leaned over to him and whispered loudly. “And guess what? I like it.”
Joe chuckled. “So I see.” He looked down at the box, alarmed. “How many have you had?”
I waved the drink at him. “This is just my second but look how many there’s left!”
“Mind sharing?”
I hated to lose one, but it seemed the neighborly thing to do. “Okay.”
Joe picked up a bottle. He twisted the cap off a whole lot easier than I did and took a big swig. “Bad day?” he asked.
For some reason I found his question funny and my laughter spilled out until I laughed so hard I was crying. Joe rocked in his chair, sipping his beer. He watched patiently, waiting for me to settle down.
“It sucked.” Then I started giggling again because Momma had considered sucked a bad word and tonight I was breaking all the rules. I settled down in a minute and took another drink. “Hey, what are you doin’ with my purse?” I asked, noticing it on the floor between us.
“I saw it outside the side of the house, thought I’d bring it to you before someone took off with it.”
“Huh,” I said, contemplating how it could have gotten there. I must have set it down when I unlocked the door earlier. Thinking of the door reminded me of the locks. “Oh!” I exclaimed in a mini-shout, fairly certain Joe actually jumped in his seat. “I plum forgot I owe you money.” I reached down for my purse, but had trouble grabbing hold of it. I thought that was funny and snickered.
“Rose, it can wait. You can just pay me later.”
I finally got a good grasp and pulled it up into my lap. “No, I insist.” I chuckled more because the s sound in the word insist sounded funny. I pulled the wallet out and shoved the bag off my lap. It landed on the floor with a loud thud. “Oops.”
I opened my wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
“I don’t remember. Just pay me later.” He looked like he thought something was really funny.
“No, no, no.” I wondered why it sounded like my words were slurred. “I might forget.”
“Okay, pay me twenty dollars and you can cook me dinner sometime to make up the difference.”
I dug through my cash, carefully picking through the bills. I found a twenty, taking great care as I pulled it out. The Wal-Mart receipt fell out onto my lap. I reached over to hand Joe the money. He took it from me, his fingers brushing mine. I felt a strange tingling in my gut.
“Oh…,” I said, my eyes opening wide in surprise. I turned to Joe in fascination.
He looked confused at my reaction.
I thought about touching
him again, but decided to take another drink of my beer instead.
“How long have you been out here?” he asked.
“I dunno…,” my voice trailed off. “Hmm….” I tried to think.
“When did you start drinking?”
“I dunno, not that long ago.” I finished off my bottle and reached down for another.
Joe grabbed my hand in his, stopping me while I lifted it out of the box. “Hold on there, Party Girl. When was the last time you ate something?”
Our heads were bent close together, both of us reaching down. I turned slightly to look at him. “I dunno…,”
His face was inches from mine, his eyes full of mischief, but they quickly clouded over and turned dark and serious. He sat up, looking stiff and uncomfortable. “I’m gonna go get us something to eat. You wait here and don’t drink anything else.”
“But there’s another beer in there!” I protested in earnest.
He grabbed the bottle and stood up.
“That’s mine! Give that back!”
“I will, after you eat something. Since you’re new to drinking I’ll teach you all about it.”
That got my attention. “You will?”
“Yeah, when I get back. Just wait right there.”
I watched my last bottle of beer leave with him. My hands settled in my lap and the receipt poked my palm. I unfolded the strip, smoothing it out. How long ago had I written my list? It felt like a lifetime.
I started reading, surprised at the number of items I could already mark off. I’d been more wicked than I thought. I’d completed three of them: numbers one, ten and eighteen—get a cell phone, drink a beer and wear high heels. Three items of twenty eight. I still had a ways to go, but those were three things I’d never done in twenty-four years. I’d made pretty good progress.
“What are you looking at?”
My head jerked up at the sound of Joe’s voice. “Huh?”
“What’s that?”
I loved beer. Normally, I would have been shy and hid my list, but beer gave me confidence I’d never had before. “It’s my Wish List.”
Joe handed me a bottle of water and a paper plate with a sandwich and some chips. He sat down with his own plate and water.
“Where’s my beer?” I asked, panicked that he might have lost it.
He laughed. “Don’t worry, I put it in your fridge. Rule number one of drinking: Beer is better cold.”
I picked up the sandwich and took a bite. “Oh…”
Joe leaned over toward me. “That one is very important.”
I nodded, seeing the seriousness of it. “What else?”
“Beer before liquor, you’ll never be sicker.”
I scrunched my nose. “What does that mean?”
“It means don’t drink beer and move onto harder stuff; you’ll get a pretty nasty hangover.”
“Okay.” I took another bite of my turkey sandwich. “Why did you bring me a sandwich? Why’re you being so nice to me?”
He shrugged and grinned. “You gave me a beer, I repaid you with a sandwich. Good trade. Besides, that brings me to the next rule: don’t drink on an empty stomach. Bad idea.”
“Wow, I had no idea drinkin’ had so many rules.”
“You have no idea. Next rule: drink plenty of water so you don’t get dehydrated.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, take another drink. It will keep you from getting a headache tomorrow.”
“I’m gonna get a headache?”
“If you drink too much and don’t eat or drink water. We’re gonna try to stop that from happening.”
I took another sip.
Joe finished his sandwich and set his plate on the floor. “So what’s on your list?”
“Wishes.”
“Wishes? What kind of wishes?
I handed him the list.
He took it and raised his eyebrows. “A Wal-Mart receipt?”
I shrugged and nibbled on a chip. “I didn’t have any paper.”
“Number one, get a cell phone. Two, commit all seven deadly sins in one week.” He jerked his head up, smiling. “What is this?”
The fuzzy feeling in my head was going away and I didn’t want it to. “Can I have my beer now?”
Joe gave me a weird look as he went in the front door with the receipt still in his hand. He must have run because it felt like he’d just gone in when he came back, handing me an open bottle. He had one too.
“So about this list…”
I took a drink. Joe was right; beer was better cold. “I told ya already, it’s my Wish List. It’s all the things I wanna do.”
“Looks like you took care of number ten tonight, drink beer.”
“Yeah, lucky for me Uncle Earl left it behind.” I giggled.
Joe continued reading. “Number fourteen, kiss a man.” He looked up. “Rose, are you telling me you’ve never done anything on this list?” He sounded like he’d just been told there was no Santa Claus after believing his whole life.
“Oh, no…”
“Good, I didn’t see how…”
“I hadn’t done any of those things before last week. I’ve done three of them now.” I held up three fingers to show him. “I bought a cell phone. I wore heels to Momma’s funeral and I didn’t fall over. And tonight I’m drinking beer.” I lowered a finger as I ticked off the items, leaving my middle finger for the last. A second later I realized what I did and broke out into a fit of laughter.
When I stopped, Joe stared at me, his face very serious. “Rose, why did you write this list?”
I took another drink of my beer. “Cause I was tired of not living, you know?”
“No, what do you mean?”
I sighed for all I was worth. “I wanted to live my life instead of having my momma tellin’ me what I could and couldn’t do and tellin’ me how evil I was.”
Joe took a drink of his beer, quiet for a moment. “Rose, when did you write this list? Number four is Get my own place.”
“I wrote it Saturday, before I came home and found Momma.”
Joe reached over and took my hand in his. “Rose, did you kill your mother?” His voice was so quiet the cicadas almost drowned out his words.
I tried to snatch my hand away. “No! What do you care, anyway? You said it wasn’t for you to decide, remember?”
His grip held tight. “You’re right, I don’t care. I’m just curious.”
“What? Are you afraid I’ll beat your head in with a rolling pin?”
Joe laughed and let go of my hand. “No, I’m not afraid of you, not how you’re thinking anyway. If you came at me with a blunt object, I could fend you off with one hand tied behind my back.”
I thought about arguing with him but decided maybe I’d prove him wrong later. I’d bide my time.
“Number twelve, dance. You’ve never danced?”
“Nope.”
“Not even in your living room?”
“Nope.”
“Now that’s a damn shame. Everyone has danced in their living room.”
“Not me.”
“Number fifteen.”
I turned to face him. “Which one is that?”
He glanced up. The teasing expression on his face looked forced. “Do more with a man.”
For the first time since he started reading, I felt embarrassed. “I didn’t say what I wanted. I just said do more.”
“Why do you want to commit all Seven Deadly Sins in one week? Why one week? Why commit them at all?”
I took a drink, suddenly tired of all his questions. “Look, there’s rules with that list. I can only mark them off when I do them. If I don’t do them, they can’t come off. I wrote that one without thinkin’. I thought about how Momma always said I was committing deadly sins and I thought I was gonna commit them all and enjoy it. But one day just didn’t seem right, you know?” I stopped to make sure he did.
He nodded with a smirk.
“So I decided one week would be more respectable. But
what I hadn’t thought about was keepin’ track of them all. I think I’ll have to write them down or I’ll forget which ones I did and didn’t do.” I stood up. “I gotta pee.”
Joe laughed. “All right. Do you need help getting to the bathroom?”
My snort told him what I thought of his ridiculous question. I turned to go inside the door, teetering because the porch began to wobble. I giggled again.
Joe got up and held onto my elbow. “Be careful.”
I tripped over my foot and started to fall. Joe wrapped his arm around my waist and steadied me, pulling my body to his in the process.
We stood chest to chest, his arm holding me to him. My heart sped up and my breathing became shallow. The warm feeling down below returned with a tingling I hadn’t expected but wasn’t ready to lose just yet.
“Can you list the Seven Deadly Sins?” Joe asked, his voice barely a whisper.
I stared up into his eyes, mesmerized. “Envy, slothfulness, gluttony.”
“Have you ever done any of those, Rose?”
I nodded slowly.
“That’s only three. Do you know the other four?”
“Wrath, pride, greed…lust.”
His face moved closer to mine. My heart beat even faster, trying to flip-flop out of my chest.
“Ever felt greed?”
“I don’t know.”
“Lust?” His mouth was inches from mine.
Overcome with a yearning I’d never felt before, I didn’t answer, just studied his face.
“Have you really never been kissed? I find that so hard to believe.” His free hand caressed my cheek.
I felt his breath on my face and something in me ached with a need I couldn’t name.
His mouth lowered so close to mine, our lips almost touched. “I can help you with an item on your list.”
“Which one?” I whispered, searching his eyes and trying not to go cross-eyed.
“Number fourteen, a kiss.”
My heart thumped so hard I wondered if I was about to have a heart attack. But I decided if I was gonna die, then kissing Joe was probably a good way to go. “Can you make it a really good one?”
Crimes of Passion Page 65
