The young waitress, whose name is Kayden and who seems to know all the boys by name, comes back and takes our order.
In keeping with Sweet Willy’s service station theme, her uniform is a pair of blue button-front cotton coveralls, complete with automotive patches and what looks like smears of grease.
She and Jayson are familiar and friendly, but there is also something weird passing between them.
After Jayson orders, he says, “You know what Shane would want. Maybe just give that to Carl too.”
“I’m not giving Shane’s special to anyone else.”
“Okay. Damn. I don’t know what he would want. Just give him what I ordered.”
She nods, then notices I am looking at them and grows even more awkward and self-conscious. She looks back at me, eyes wide, brows raised. “Anything else?”
I shake my head. “Thanks.”
“So tell me about Shane as a Ranger,” Tommy says. “As your friend.”
“He was a great guy,” Jayson says. “Truly. You and Michelle did a wonderful job raising him.”
“He never complained,” Joshua says. “Always shouldered his own load. Helped out when he could. Was respected by the troops and his commanders.”
“He was crazy,” Kahleel says. “Knew how to have fun. Loved to dance. Danced like a brother.”
“Not all he did like a brother,” Orlando says.
They all laugh. Well, everyone but Josh.
“Whatta you mean?” Tommy asks.
“He liked sisters,” Rashard says. “We go out and he be competition for me and Kahleel. Hell, we go to one of those country music clubs . . . there’d be one black girl and ’fore we know it he’d have her cornered up. Wouldn’t leave shit for me or Kahleel.”
Tommy smiles politely and nods, but I can tell it bothers him. My sincere hope is this is because Shane was supposed to be in a relationship with Megan and not a racist reaction, but I don’t know him well enough to be sure, and this deep in the Deep South you can never be sure.
Jayson shoots Rashard a look and he drops the subject.
A moment of awkward, uncomfortable silence passes.
“Shane was nice to everyone,” Honor says. “Accepted everyone. And was liked by everyone.”
“He really was,” Kahleel adds.
“Good soldier,” Josh says. “Good man. What else is there to be?”
Kayden, who has been particularly attentive to our table, coming back often to check on us, brings our food when she returns this time, rolling it out on a large old rusty red toolbox with casters on it.
As we eat and the boys share stories about Shane, I try to figure out a way to have a private conversation with Jayson. I want to find out if what’s going on with him and Kayden has anything to do with Shane and to see if there’s anything he doesn’t feel like he can say in front of Tommy.
Chapter Thirty-six
“You flatter a girl,” Jayson says.
I smile. “How so?”
“Working so hard to get me alone.”
It has taken some maneuvering, but I finally managed it. I guess my efforts were just a little more transparent than I realized.
While the other boys take Tommy to Commando, the military supply store back up Victory Drive on the way to the base, I hang back ostensibly to make a couple of calls. At my suggestion, Jayson stays back with me so that he can show me how to get there and so Tommy can spend more time with Shane’s friends.
It was weak but it worked, and it doesn’t even matter if everyone thinks I was trying to get Jayson alone for other reasons.
“What can you tell me about Shane that you couldn’t say in front of his brother? Oh, but before you get to that, what happened to Carl?”
He twists his lips up and raises his eyebrows. “Tragic accident. Beyond that . . . I don’t know for sure. It’s very rare that both your chutes don’t work. Very rare. Most of the time . . . the guy panics, waits too late to pull the chute . . . or he jumps too late. First chute doesn’t work and he freaks out and doesn’t pull the second or . . . like I said . . . pulls it too late.”
I nod. “Thanks. How about Shane? Anything you wouldn’t say in front of his brother?”
He shrugs again. “Nothing, really. What we said about him was true. He was truly a good guy, treated everybody the same, worked hard—all the things we already said.”
“Why didn’t you want his brother to hear that he liked black girls?”
“I don’t know exactly—except it looked like it made him uncomfortable and if it wasn’t something Shane wanted him to know, it wasn’t our place to tell him.”
“What’s the deal with Kayden?”
“Our waitress?”
“Yeah.”
“Nothin’. Whatta you mean?”
“This is an official investigation into the suspicious death of someone I thought was a friend of yours.”
“He is. I mean was. Why suspicious?”
“Tell me why she was here,” I say. “Why she toasted him. Why she acted like we were her only table. Why she knows so much about Shane.”
“They were seeing each other, all right? Damn. I didn’t want to say anything because they were keepin’ it on the DL.”
Kayden lives in a mobile home park beneath Georgia pines and filled with chinaberry, black walnut, and cedar trees, down a side street behind Sweet Willy’s. I drive back to the address Jayson gave me and park close to the old, faded-yellow single wide house trailer and get out.
As I’m approaching the place, Kayden comes out in an American flag bikini and white flip-flops, a white towel draped over her arm.
She stops when she sees me and starts shaking her head.
“I knew you were going to be a problem,” she says. “The brother not so much, but you . . . you don’t miss much, do you?”
“I miss plenty,” I say.
She is pretty, but that’s not what’s most attractive about her. It’s the figure revealed by the bikini that provides her true allure—the way her breasts and backside are perfectly proportioned. And the way there is plenty of each. It’s also the color of her smooth skin, which reminds me of heavily creamed coffee.
“Mind if I ask you a few questions?” I say.
“Mind if we do it by the pool?” she says. “Don’t have long before I have to be at my second job and I’m in need of a little pool time.”
“Lead the way.”
She leads me to the small cement pool in the center of the park and less than twenty feet from her home, passes through an opening in the tattered chain-link fence, tosses her towel on one of the rickety old plastic chaise lounge chairs, sits on the edge of the dirty and dilapidated old pool, and dangles her long caramel legs down in the murky water.
Clearly the pool hasn’t been cleaned in—maybe ever. The leaves and branches and twigs of nearby overgrown trees have littered the pool until its waters are as tannic as those of the Dead Lakes.
“Are you sure that’s safe?” I ask.
She smiles, looking up at me so that I see myself reflected in her shades.
Standing above her the way I am, I can see far too much of her breasts, which are barely covered by the bikini top.
Stepping over, I grab one of the plastic chairs, pull it up close to her, and sit on the end.
“I knew with the way Jayson was acting you were gonna pick up on . . . He loves to be in on secrets, but gives them away without ever saying a word.”
Though the pool looks like a naturally occurring backwater bog, it still smells strongly of chemicals.
“Seriously,” I say. “Are you sure it’s safe to stick even your legs in there?”
“I’ll shower off when I go in,” she says. “But the pool is the reason I moved into this place and by God I’m gonna use it.”
I nod.
“So they did the gathering at Sweet Willy’s so you could be a part of it?” I ask.
“They did it there because it’s Shane’s favorite place, but yeah, also to let me fe
el less like a mistress I guess. I say they, but it was Jayson. He’s the only one who really knows. The others may have seen us flirt or even hang out, but . . . Jayson’s the only one who knew what it really was.”
“Which was?”
“Love,” she says, her expression and tone saying duh. “True love.”
“How long were y’all together?” I ask.
“I’d rather not say, but a while. He tried and tried to break it off with Megan, but . . . she just wouldn’t let him. She’s so . . . sad and sort of needy. He felt so bad for her. Hell, I felt bad for her, but . . .”
“He went home this past weekend to break up with her in person?” I say.
She nods. “Wouldn’t let him do it any other way. Poor thing. He was dreading the mess out of it, but he felt so guilty he had to do it. She knew what was coming and didn’t make it any easier on him. She certainly wasn’t one for bowing out gracefully.”
We are quiet a moment.
“I still can’t believe he’s gone,” she says.
“How are you about it?” I ask. “You seem like you’re doing okay.”
“It’s not real to me yet,” she says. “I’m not sure it ever will be, but . . . it’s certainly not now. It’s just like he’s still on his trip.”
I nod. “When was the last time you spoke to him?”
“He was driving down to swim in the river,” she says. “Said Megan was following him and he was going to tell her as soon as they got there.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
“DADDY,” Johanna squeals when I walk in the door.
She is sitting at the kitchen table looking at a book. Taylor is not far from her in a windup baby swing. Anna is standing at the stove cooking dinner.
“How are my girls?” I say.
“Better now,” Anna says.
I kiss her and make my way over and kiss our daughters.
“Will you read this book to me, Daddy?”
“I’d love to,” I say. “How about we do that right after supper?”
She nods her little head. “Okay, Daddy. That will be fine.”
I smile.
I grab a Diet Cherry Coke from the fridge and step back over toward Anna. Coming up behind her, I press my body into hers as I hug her.
“How was your day?” I ask.
“It’s been great. I love having her here. How’d it go?”
“Want me to help you finish up and then tell you over dinner?”
“Perfect,” she says.
“So?” Anna says. “How was it?”
The four of us are sitting around the table well into working on our spaghetti. Johanna, who doesn’t want any help, is twisting her noodles around her fork, getting more sauce on her face than in her mouth.
“Seemed very cathartic for Tommy,” I say. “They all genuinely liked Shane. He really enjoyed being with them, hearing their stories, feeling a part of that part of Shane’s life.”
“I appreciate you going with him,” she says. “I know you didn’t have time, but . . . it really means a lot.”
“Happy to.”
“How was it for you?”
“Illuminating.”
“Oh yeah? How so?”
“I met the girl Shane was breaking up with Megan for.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Should’ve guessed it,” she says. “People rarely ever break up with someone except to be with someone else. What’s she like?”
“I liked her,” I say. “She’s smart, resourceful, attractive. I see what he saw in her.”
She nods. “I feel so bad for Megan.”
“Me too. And Tommy really does. She’s in his youth group. He talked about her much of the way home. Her mom’s a mess. He and Michelle have thought about taking her in. Always stopped short of doing it because of Shane. But now . . .”
“Might help them. Know it would her.”
“Where does Tommy fall on the racism spectrum?” I ask.
She looks alarmed. “Why? What did he say?”
“Shane was hiding his new girlfriend from him and now she and his friends still are. I was wondering if it’s because she’s black or because he was seeing her while he was still supposed to be with Megan.”
“Oh,” she says, nodding as she thinks about it. “Interesting.”
“She said Shane had broken up with Megan, but Megan refused to let him. Said he came home last weekend to do it in person.”
“I’d’ve said Tommy’s not racist at all,” she says. “But I can’t be sure of something like that—sometimes people really surprise you. Sometimes it’s the ones you’d never suspect. I hope he’s not like that. Hope he wasn’t and that Shane didn’t think he was.”
Before I can express my agreement, my phone vibrates and I pull it out of my pocket.
It’s Susan.
“Hey,” I say. “How’s it going? Getting settled in okay?”
“I don’t think I can do this, John,” she says. “I miss her too much.”
They were the words I was most dreading to hear, the words some part of me expected to hear.
I frown and whisper to Anna, and excuse myself from the table to take the call.
Chapter Thirty-eight
“It’s just an adjustment,” I say. “It’s difficult, but you can do it. After we talk, I’ll put her on the phone and you can have a nice long visit.”
“You don’t understand,” she says.
“Actually, I do,” I say. “I know exactly what you’re going through. It’s something I go through all the time. Experiencing it like this will help you understand where I’ve been coming from, what I’ve been going through.”
“I don’t know,” she says.
“You can do this,” I say. “We both can. We can do it because it’s what’s right and good for her. We can make this work because we love her and want what is best for her. Because we care for each other and each want the other to have time with her too.”
“I thought I could, but I don’t think I can,” she says. “I’m just so alone up here. I feel so lost without her.”
“That’s only because you’re in the transition period. Once you have your full life up there again—a routine, friends, work . . . Why don’t you call some of your old friends and go out?”
“I’ve tried. Everybody’s busy. It’s like they forgot about me, like they’re not even glad I’m back.”
“I’m sure that’s not the case. Give it a little time. You’ve only been up there a day. You’ll reconnect with your old friends and make new ones. You should definitely do something tonight, though. Don’t just sit around by yourself feeling lonely.”
“I just don’t think I can. I . . . I think if I go anywhere, it will be to get in my car and come get Johanna.”
“Susan, listen to me,” I say. “You can do this. We can. We’ve got to make this work. We’ve got an agreement in place. We have to stick to it, remember? You’re just feeling overwhelmed. You’re taking a big step. Take a breath. Think about the long-term. Don’t let your momentary loneliness and fear defeat you. See this for the adventure it is and get on with it. Okay? Do something. Go shopping. I know you need things for your house. Go to a play or concert, a nice restaurant, club or bar. Go to an Al-Anon meeting. Keep calling your friends. Don’t give up. Someone will say yes. Okay? Try. Please. You can do this.”
“She’s gonna be a problem for the rest of our lives,” Anna says.
While Johanna talks to Susan on the phone, Anna and I clean the kitchen and load the dishwasher.
“Maybe not,” I say. “I was able to talk her down off the ledge tonight.”
“So you’re gonna do that every time she has a crisis?”
“It’s gonna be okay,” I say.
She twists her mouth up into a frown and gives me a look like she’s not convinced.
“Dinner was delicious,” I say. “Thank you again.”
“The thing is . . .” she says. “You help people. That’s what you do. Hell, you just got back from spen
ding the day in Columbus because Tommy asked you to—even though you had so much you needed to be doing here.”
She pauses, but I don’t say anything because I know she’s not done.
“Sometimes you help people too much.”
I start to ask if that’s really even possible, but decide that’s far too flippant, and instead think about what she’s saying.
“You’ve got to have more boundaries,” she says.
I nod to let her know I’m considering what she’s saying.
“I want to be your first priority,” she says. “I don’t want you having to help your ex-wife all the time.”
She drops a dish in the sink and it lands loudly.
“Shit,” she says. “I don’t want to be this person.”
“What person?”
“Jealous. Petty. Needy.”
“Hey,” I say, taking her into my arms. “You’re none of those things.”
Our hands are wet and dampen our clothes where we touch.
“You’re my first priority—you and the girls. If I ever do anything that makes you feel like you’re not, you tell me immediately. Okay?”
“I’m being silly,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
“No you’re not. This is my fault. I need—”
“I don’t want to change you,” she says. “I adore you. I love how you are, how quick you are to help anyone. Everyone.”
“I know you’re not trying to change me,” I say. “But I need to change. I need more boundaries. I need to say no more. And I will. You’ll help me.”
“This isn’t about that and you know it,” she says. “This is about me being jealous. It’s about me wanting to be the only woman you talk down off the ledge. This is about me dreading shit that’s not going to happen. I just saw her as an ever-increasing part of our lives . . . and I freaked out a little.”
“I promise you I’m not gonna let that happen,” I say.
“I know.”
“And you’re right about the other too. I need better boundaries. Especially now. I’ll need your help with it. Just know this—you are my priority, so if I ever do anything that makes you feel like you’re not, tell me, because it’s not intentional and I won’t be aware of it.”
Blood Oath: a John Jordan Mystery Book 11 (John Jordan Mysteries) Page 14
