by E. Joan Sims
We hurried to the back of the trailer and pulled the rag off the window. I took a cautious peek outside but didn’t see another soul. The blows continued to rain on the door. It was only a matter of minutes before it caved in under the tremendous punishment. Without thinking once of clever poodles, I climbed out the window and dropped fearlessly to the ground below.
Cassie was stuck.. No matter which way she turned she couldn’t hold on to the window frame so she could climb out. For a briefly insane moment I considered running around to the front door and acting as a decoy so my daughter could escape. She stopped me just in time.
“I’m coming out head first, Mom,” she whispered. “Catch me!”
I managed to grab her around the middle as she tumbled out the window. We both fell backwards and rolled over end to end like dung beetles in the dust.
“Ommph!”
“Cassie? Are you okay?”
For an answer she grabbed my hand to pull me up, and off we ran. She held the metal bar close to her body to avoid hitting first the trailers and then tree branches as we skirted the enclave and made our way back to the cedar forest.
Under cover of the spreading branches, we stopped to get our breath and listen.
“Did he catch on?”
“Unless he’s an idiot,” I panted.
“I don’t hear anything.”
“Me neither, but I don’t want to wait until we do. Let’s get going. Can you climb back down the cliff with that thing hanging off your hand?”
“I’ll have to, won’t I?” she answered. “But this time you go first in case I fall.”
“Oh, God, Cassie,” I begged. “Please be careful.”
“Like I wouldn’t if you didn’t tell me to,” she snorted. “That always makes me so mad when you…”
“He’s coming!”
I wasn’t sure if I heard anything or not, but I was certain we would get caught if we stood there arguing like ninnies. We ran side by side back down the path to the cliffs.
Cassie’s eyes and reflexes were twenty years younger than mine. She managed to catch me before I ran full tilt over the precipice. I flopped over on my stomach and backed down over the ledge searching for a toehold with my foot. I heard Cassie’s metal appendage clank on a rock. She was right behind me.
“Go, Mom, go!” she called softly and urgently. “I don’t want to kick you in the face.”
I scrambled down the rocky cliff as fast as I could, but I wasn’t fast enough.
A bright light flashed in my face and suddenly I was blinded—frozen on the spot like a bug pinned under a microscope.
“Stop right there, bitch!” warned a man’s angry voice. “I have a gun and it’s pointed right at your head. If you don’t come back up here right now, I’ll blow you away.”
“I…I can’t see,” I called back. “Turn the light off. You’re blinding me.”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” he sneered.
“No, no, I can’t see, honestly. Just turn the light off, and I’ll climb back up.”
The man grunted and grudgingly moved the light slowly away from my face. I held my breath, praying that he wouldn’t turn the light in Cassie’s direction, and made noises like I was climbing. When my eyes adjusted to the dark I could see Cassie’s outline above me. She was poised right underneath the overhang at the top. He still hadn’t seen her, and it was up to me to make sure that he never did. I made my decision in a split second.
“Arghh!” I cried out theatrically. “I’m slipping! Help! Help!” And I stepped backwards into the darkness.
It seemed to me that I fell slowly, fully aware of everything that was happening. The man above followed my progress with his flashlight beam until I was out of range. I heard the loud explosion of his gun and decided I was dying because I had not hit the water yet.
I was going straight to hell without passing “Go,” just like Mother always warned I would. A vague feeling of remorse for the use of the foul language that apparently was my undoing crossed my mind. I found myself wishing I had committed some other sins that were a lot more fun. Then I hit the surface of the water. I hit hard. My body shot down to the rocky bottom of the bay like a torpedo. The water wasn’t very deep and my feet and then my knees doubled up painfully beneath me. The water stung the raw places where the rocks scraped the skin from my legs and brought me back to my senses. I had to get some air in my lungs, but I had to do it quietly. I was supposed to be dead, after all.
I swam under water as far as I could before I surfaced. I was ten or fifteen feet from where I fell in. Even though my lungs burned, I forced my mouth closed and breathed the air I so desperately needed through my nose.
I granted myself the luxury of floating for a moment and looked back up to the top of the cliff. The man was still making a futile effort to shine his light towards the black waters of the bay. It wasn’t long before he realized it was hopeless. The light changed directions and then bobbed away from the edge and gradually out of sight.
I swam quietly back to the bottom of the cliff and waited silently until I heard the occasional clink of metal against rock.
“Cassie, I’m here,” I called softly.
“Mom, oh, Mom,” she snuffled. “I thought…”
And she was down beside me in the water and holding on for dear life.
I laughed and cried with her for a minute or two, then held her at arm’s length.
“Let’s hope Fatty thinks I’m dead, too. And just pray we have enough time to get back to Watson before he decides to drive down to the lakeshore to see if my body turns up. I imagine by now he’s realized what an embarrassment my poor little corpse could be.”
Cassie found it impossible to swim with the metal rack on her finger. She finally turned over on her back and let me pull her lifesaver style. When we reached the shore, she went to pick up our clothes, and I headed for the car at a dead run. I had the engine on and was ready to go by the time she climbed inside.
“Hand me that Atlanta Braves cap from the back seat, Cassie. And put on Gran’s big straw hat. If anybody comes along looking for us maybe they won’t recognize a man and a woman necking.”
“Necking?”
“Yeah,” I laughed. “Scoot over close to me and put your arm around my shoulder. That ought to fool them.”
“Wow, Mom, you’re really something! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so charged.”
“Near death experiences tend to have that effect on me,” I acknowledged with a grin. “And I’m starving! Are you still up for some hot salty grease?”
“What about this thing on my hand?” she asked.
“Order the home fries, it’ll slide off in no time,” I promised.
Chapter Seventeen
Because the Pelican was only a short distance from the lake, it was a favorite spot for fisherman to take their hungry families after a disappointing day at the lonesome end of a fishing pole. I had to admit, some of the best catfish I’ve ever eaten was served to me by the Pelican’s star waitress.
Wanda Blake was a distant cousin of the owner and the mother of at least one of his six children. That son left town several years ago and made his mother proud by achieving somewhat of a reputation as the stud de jour in several higher class porn movies. Over the years Hector, a.k.a. Dirk Blade, had sent Wanda enough money to purchase the modest cottage he grew up in and do nothing for the rest of her days but watch daytime television. While he found it hard to believe she preferred to work, I didn’t. Wanda was a total extrovert. She would shrivel up and die if she stayed home by herself.
The parking area in front of the restaurant was full of cars with out-of-state plates and local pickup trucks with boat trailers attached. I drove around to the back and stationed Watson in a dark corner—well away from the tall mercury lamp that painted the night with its ghostly green glow.
“Gosh, Mom. Why are we hiding back here? You don’t think Fatty is still on our trail, do you?”
She got out without even waiting
for my answer. “Remember,” she continued, “he was so drunk he could hardly stand not so very long ago. I’m surprised he was able to waddle down to the cliffs. I bet he collapsed when he got back to his trailer and forgot the whole thing.”
I climbed stiffly out of the car and peered in the side view mirror to see if there was something I could do to make myself more presentable. I was startled to see my reflection looking back, white and scared in the ghoulish light.
“Oh, my,” I whispered.
“What’s that, Mom?” asked Cassie as she turned and leaned against the fender to slip on her jeans.
“Oh, my, is right, Mom! Your poor shins! What happened?”
Cassie quickly zipped up her pants and knelt at my side. I looked down and saw what she meant. The skin on the front of my legs and the tops of my feet had been rubbed raw by the rocks on the bottom of Bass Bay. Little rivulets of blood had congealed in irregular lines from knees to ankles causing my pale legs to resemble factory reject peppermint sticks.
“Yukkk!” pronounced my daughter.
“Is that opinion medical or cosmetic?”
“Mom, you really ought to go home and take care of this. You might even need a tetanus shot.”
“I need something to eat,” I insisted. “Help me put on these jeans. I’ll worry about my legs later. My tummy is my main problem right now.”
“I’ll ask Wanda if we can sit in the kitchen,” worried Cassie. “You don’t look too good.”
“Gee, thanks a lot! I may not be young and beautiful enough to look good after jumping off a sixty foot cliff…”
“Forty.”
“Whatever. And landing in five feet of water.”
“Fifteen.”
“Whatever! But I’m not over the hill, yet!”
Cassie brushed the hair back from my forehead with the fingers of her free hand and gave me an awkward little hug.
“You look great, Mom. But let’s sit in the kitchen anyway, okay.”
We opened the back door to the bright lights and noisy conversation of the busy restaurant. Cassie waited for a moment until she caught Wanda’s eye and called her over.
Somehow she convinced her to let us pass unnoticed through the swinging door of the dining room into the kitchen. The burly cook turned to order us out and got a good look at Cassie. His broad face broke into a huge welcoming grin, and he waved his meat cleaver in a fond salute. Wanda led us around behind the stainless steel counters and big iron stoves to a quiet worktable in the corner where we would be out of the way.
Wanda didn’t even blink when she took in our disheveled appearance. Her only response to the metal towel rack on Cassie’s finger was to hand her a small plastic bag of ice.
“Keep this on that finger for a minute, hun. Soon’s the swelling goes down it’ll fall right off. What can I get you folks tonight?”
Cassie and I ordered the works: country ham, fried eggs, grits, hash browns, gravy, sausage, bacon, and biscuits. While we waited for our food, I began to feel the adrenaline drain away. My legs started hurting and my emotions took an abrupt nosedive. When Wanda startled me by slapping the huge platters of food down on the table, I burst into tears.
“Oh, for goodness sakes? What’s wrong, hun? Did you want ’em scrambled?” she asked.
“Just bring her some hot tea, please, Wanda,” sighed Cassie. “And I guess you’d better take that feast away. Maybe she could have a poached egg and some dry toast instead?”
Cassie dug unashamedly into her food and let me sob. She knew I had to cry myself out.
“Okay, Mom,” she said finally as she wiped egg yolk off her cheek, “It just now hit you that we got shot at, right?”
“Yes,” I hiccoughed.
“And you’re blaming yourself again because you took your little chick into harm’s way?”
“Something like that,” I sighed remorsefully.
“If I were a friend—Pam for instance—would you be crying, or would you be dancing with the excitement and thrill of it all?”
“Well…”
“I’ll tell you,” she interrupted. “You’d be jumping up and down with glee that we got away with it, and,” she lowered her voice, “found at least part of what we went looking for.”
“But, you’re my baby,” I protested tearfully. “I’m supposed to protect you with my last breath.”
“Mom, you’re the most wonderful parent anyone ever had. One of the things I like best about us is that sometimes you forget you’re a mom. When you treat me like an equal, then I know I’m the kind of person you would chose for a friend. That makes me intensely proud. I had a terrific time tonight. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. If you had gone out there without me I would have been furious, and terribly hurt. And you might be an unwelcome guest in Fatty’s trailer.”
“How come?”
“Because if I hadn’t been there, you would have climbed back up that cliff instead of jumping to protect me. Now can I have a piece of pie?”
“May I have a piece of pie,” I corrected with a tentative little smile.
“Yes, you may,” laughed my daughter.
“I love you, Cassie.”
“I…, hey, the ice worked! The rack came off my finger.”
She plopped the towel bar down on the table.
“Now, let’s see if I can…”
“For heaven’s sake, don’t stick another finger…”
Cassie was about to give me that withering look reserved for mothers who make the mistake of saying the obvious, when Wanda leaned over the table.
“Some jerk’s out front demanding to know if a woman with curly red hair came in the restaurant,” she whispered with a conspiratorial wink. “Nobody saw you two come in so’s they all said no. I thought I’d best warn you because he may try to look in the kitchen.”
“Thanks, Wanda!” said Cassie, as she hopped up and grabbed the towel rack.
I fished a crumpled twenty out of my jeans pocket and handed it to her.
“Will this cover everything and leave enough for you?”
“More than these yokels ever tip me, hun. Now scat!”
Cassie and I followed Wanda to the back of the kitchen and hurried through the door she opened for us. We found ourselves in the parking lot about ten feet from Watson. Wanda blew us a kiss and closed the door. We stood side by side in the shadows and listened.
“What are we waiting for?” whispered Cassie impatiently.
I, too, longed to run for the safety of the car, but caution kept me from acting on impulse. Cassie started to push me out of the doorway when we both heard the soft crunching of gravel as a truck drove slowly around from the front. We flattened ourselves against the wall and held our breath as the truck circled the other cars in the lot.
“That’s Fatty’s truck,” whispered Cassie. “I saw it earlier at the trailer park.”
“I know, but I don’t think that’s him driving.”
“Why not? Who else would it be?”
“I don’t know, but Fatty knows our names and what Watson looks like, remember? He wouldn’t have to describe me.”
We watched as the truck drove slowly back to the front entrance, then pulled out on the highway. The driver put the pedal to the metal and was soon out of sight.
“Whew! Thank God for Wanda. Now we can relax.”
“We’ve got to get home quickly, Cassie.”
“Why the big hurry?”
“Just in case I’m wrong and that was Fatty. Thanks to my big mouth, he not only knows our names, he knows where we live. By now Mother is probably back at the farm. And she’s all alone.”
“Aggie’s there.”
“Big whoop.”
Chapter Eighteen
We were home in less than fifteen minutes. I took the freeway instead of the local road so I could exceed the speed limit without worrying about broadsiding meandering cows, chickens, or goats. The farmers who live in Lakeland County are notorious for eschewing fences in favor of open pastures
, and they shared watering holes for their livestock. It was a neighborly concept, but made traveling at night a tad interesting.
The house was dark. I couldn’t tell if Mother had gotten home and gone to bed, or had not yet arrived. And there was no sign of Fatty, or anyone else.
“What’ll we do?” asked Cassie. “Do you want me to go in a check on Gran, or stay out here and wait with you?”
“Go check on her,” I decided abruptly.
“I hate to leave you alone in case Fatty comes roaring up the driveway with guns drawn.”
“I’ll be fine. Just make sure Mother is okay, then come back and let me know.”
Cassie opened the car door and hopped out. As soon as I saw that she was safely in the house I drove around the circular drive and parked Watson behind the few crepe myrtles and rhododendrons that had escaped the storm.
I got out of the car and waited in the bushes for Cassie to reappear. It didn’t take long. She came running around from the front of the house to surprise me after I had stared nervously at the back door for a full five minutes.
“What’s the deal, Cassie?” I whispered impatiently.
“Gran’s not home, yet.”
“And?”
“I climbed out my bedroom window in case she came home while I was inside the house. I also stuffed our beds with pillows to make it look like we were sleeping. Neat, huh?”
“And all this was in aid of what?” I asked crossly.
Even in the moonlight I could see the excitement ebb from her face. I immediately wished I could take the words back.
“I’m sorry, Cassie. I’m tired and irritable. I didn’t mean to sound snotty, but what did you have in mind? Not staying out here all night, I hope?”
“You’re the one who was all hot to trot for this adventure,” she retorted. “I was perfectly willing to spend my last weekend on the farm in peace and quiet. A nice glass of wine and some of that Dutch cheese—maybe a good book—certainly not one of Leonard’s, by the way…”
I grabbed her arm and pulled her down behind the crepe myrtle.
“Somebody’s coming!”
