Saving Jake

by Sharon Sala

  They carried Nester out next on a gurney.

  “Is he gonna be okay?” she asked, eyeing all the blood.

  “His nose is broken. Pretty sure he has a concussion. I can’t speak to anything more,” the EMT said, and then they were gone.

  May sighed. “Just rest easy, Billy. I’m gonna get the mop and bucket and start cleaning up all that blood.”

  “I’ll get the broken pool cue and reset the pool table for you,” Billy offered.

  “Thanks, but you just sit and enjoy your beer. This shit is part of owning a bar.”

  * * *

  Truman was booked and in a cell sleeping it off when Nester came out of X-ray. He’d come to long enough for the doctor to reassure him that he wasn’t going to die, after which the doctor proceeded to reset his broken nose. Nester passed out from the pain, and the doctor had him admitted because of a concussion. It was not how either Truman or Nester had envisioned ending their day.

  * * *

  Jake spent the next two days splitting wood, and after breakfast Friday morning, he headed straight to town. He needed to get the chain sharpened on his chain saw and stop by the hardware store to pick up some chainsaw oil.

  He was driving by Ralph’s gas station at the edge of town when he saw a black wreath hanging on the door and a sign below it. He knew before he even stopped to read it that it was bad news, and it was.

  Ralph Sinclair was dead!

  According to the message his widow had put on the door, Ralph had died of a heart attack yesterday. She had closed the station indefinitely and thanked everyone for condolences. He got back in his truck with a heavy heart. Ralph had been a good guy he’d known all his life. He sure hated to hear this news.

  He thought about it all through the morning as he dropped off the chain to be sharpened and stopped at the hardware store for the oil. He ran the rest of his errands without lingering to visit. The news was all anyone wanted to talk about, and he wasn’t one who liked to discuss death like some people discussed the weather.

  He thought about the station again as he passed it on his way home, wondering what was going to happen. If it closed down, there would be only one place left in Blessings that sold gas.

  He got home, put up what he’d purchased, and then went into the house and made a call to Peanut Butterman.

  His secretary, Betty Purejoy, answered. “Mr. Butterman’s office, Betty speaking.”

  “Hello, Betty, this is Jake Lorde. By any chance is Peanut in?”

  “Why, yes, he is. Just a moment, and I’ll put you through.”

  Jake waited only a few seconds before Peanut answered. “Hello, Jake! What can I do for you?”

  “I just got back from town and saw that Ralph Sinclair had passed and the station is closed.”

  “Yes! Sudden heart attack,” Peanut said. “Let it be a lesson to all of us. We never know when it’s going to be our time.”

  “That’s for sure,” Jake said. “Look. I saw on the notice Mrs. Sinclair had up that the station is closed indefinitely.”

  “Yes. She’s likely going to be moving to Savannah. That’s where their only son and his family lives. Why?”

  “Is she going to sell the station?”

  “Are you interested in buying it?” Peanut asked.

  “I might be if the price is right and there is no lien against the property.”

  “Well now,” Peanut said. “I’m handling the estate, so I can certainly find out. I can’t answer you now, but give me a couple of days, okay? It’s a tender subject right now. Mrs. Sinclair is devastated, as you can imagine.”

  “Yes. It’s why I was calling you. I would never have asked her such a thing at a time like this. I appreciate you getting that information for me. Call my cell when you know something,” Jake said, and then proceeded to give Peanut his number.

  He disconnected, leaned back in his dad’s recliner, and stared out the window to the road beyond. The silence of the house wrapped around him like a hug from an old friend. It felt like he’d just taken the first step back into the real world.

  * * *

  Saturday dawned clear and cold.

  Laurel had a thousand things to do today before the fall festival kicked off this evening. Her parents had planned to go and help look after Bonnie while she manned the kissing booth, but a call from her dad last night changed that. Her mom was down with the flu, and neither of them would be able to go. She’d been sorry for her mom, and then a little worried for herself. Now who could she ask to look after Bonnie? She was going to have to play it by ear when they got there and hope one of the other mothers would let Bonnie tag along with them through the festival. Granted, it was all indoors at the high school gymnasium, but there were a half dozen ways to get in and out of the building, and Bonnie was too young to be on her own.

  She glanced out the window to see if Bonnie was still playing with Lavonne, and then began mopping the kitchen floor. If she stayed outside playing until the floor dried, it would be a first. She kept glancing out as she worked, making sure she knew where Bonnie was at all times, and the next time she looked and didn’t see her, she put down the mop and stepped outside.

  “Bonnie! Bonnie Carol! Where are you?” she yelled.

  “I’m in the front yard, Mama,” Bonnie called.

  Laurel walked around to the front of the house and was stunned to see her sister-in-law, Beverly, standing beside her car with Bonnie in her arms. Beverly saw the look on Laurel’s face and immediately put her niece down and started walking toward the house, talking as she went.

  “Don’t be mad. I didn’t come to make trouble. I haven’t been able to get what you said out of my mind.”

  Laurel touched Bonnie’s head as she stopped beside her mama. “Go play inside for a while, okay?”

  Unaware of the undercurrents, Bonnie happily did as she was told. As soon as she was out of hearing distance, Laurel looked up.

  “Say it fast and get off my property,” Laurel said.

  Beverly sighed. “I deserve that and more. I admit it. But I came here to apologize. Understand I’m not speaking for anyone else, but I want you to know that I am so sorry for how we treated you. I have no excuse. I let… No, we all still let Adele Payne run our family like we were children. We mostly do it because she’s too damn hard to fight with, but Adam’s death was a shock and we didn’t think of anyone but ourselves. I am so sorry. Can you forgive me?”

  Laurel was stunned. This was the last thing she expected to come out of Beverly’s mouth.

  “Forgive you? I don’t even know if I believe you,” Laurel muttered.

  Beverly’s shoulders slumped. “Well, I just wanted you to know, okay? I’ll be going now. Would you call me if you ever needed help?”

  “No,” Laurel said.

  “Why?” Beverly asked.

  “Once, I needed help washing my husband’s blood and brains off the room I still sleep in, and what I got was a phone call from your mother screaming that I killed her boy. I needed help when it came time to pay for burying him. It took everything we had in the bank to pay it off, and it left me completely broke. I needed help when there was nothing to eat in my kitchen but a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter. My parents found out and brought us food. I needed help when the bank foreclosed on the car loan and repossessed it. I’m driving my daddy’s old farm truck and grateful for it. I clean houses for a living and sell my crocheted pieces when Bonnie needs school clothes. I figured it out by myself. Just because you suddenly got a guilty conscience does not mean I want any of you back in our lives. You weren’t here when it mattered. It’s good you don’t hate me, and that’s enough.”

  Beverly’s eyes welled, but she didn’t cry. Truth hurt. “You don’t trust me, do you?”

  “If you were me, would you?”

  Beverly sighed. “No. We put you through two years
of hell.”

  Laurel didn’t comment.

  Beverly eyed Laurel closely, looking for the shy, tenderhearted woman she’d been when Adam married her. “You’re not the same woman. You speak your mind without hesitation.”

  Laurel shrugged. “Adam killed her. I’m all that’s left. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I was mopping the kitchen.”

  She turned around and walked into the trailer with her back ramrod straight and her steps long and sure. She heard the car start up and drive away, but she didn’t bother turning around. Just thinking about Adam’s family made her shudder. They were mean and vindictive, and no matter what Beverly said, Laurel didn’t trust any of them one bit.

  She finished mopping, threw out the mop water, and then, as soon as the floor dried, made lunch. She called Bonnie to come eat, but when she didn’t answer, she went to look for her and found the door to her room shut. She looked in and saw Bonnie playing school. Brave Bear was sitting at the table with a doll and a stuffed giraffe. Panda Bear was in the corner.

  She grinned. “Lunch is ready, Bonnie. Didn’t you hear me call?”

  “No. Sorry, Mommy.”

  “Go wash your hands and then come to the kitchen, okay?”

  “Okay, but I need to ask you something,” Bonnie said.

  “Ask me what?”

  “Who was that woman who was here this morning? The one who picked me up?”

  Laurel’s skin suddenly crawled. “You don’t remember her?”

  “No.”

  “Then why did you let her pick you up?”

  Bonnie shrugged. “I thought I knew her, but now I don’t.”

  Laurel sighed. “It’s okay. She is your daddy’s sister.”

  Bonnie thought about it a few moments and then shrugged. “Oh. What are we having for lunch?”

  “Fried potatoes and baked beans and wieners.”

  “Yum. I like that.”

  Laurel smiled. “So do I. Now hurry before it gets cold.”

  Bonnie skipped out of the room. Laurel glanced at Brave Bear sitting at attention and frowned. “We could both use a Brave Bear today. I might be wishing you were real.”

  Chapter 10

  Truman left the police precinct minus his usual attitude and plus a mental note to himself never to go back to the Blue Ivy Bar. The booze they served was lethal. He had an assault charge pending. Nester had a hospital bill and a broken nose. He was pretty sure he and Nester wouldn’t be hanging out anymore.

  He walked all the way down to the police impoundment, paid a hundred dollars to get his truck released, and drove home a chastened man. He knew about Ralph Sinclair dying and the store closing down. He knew tonight was the fall festival in town, but once he got home, he wasn’t leaving again until he ran out of food.

  Whatever plans he had for revenge on Jake Lorde were put on simmer. He wasn’t quitting, but he needed to recharge.

  * * *

  Jake was in the barn when he thought he heard a car coming down the drive. He stepped out to look and saw a FedEx delivery van pulling up. When the driver got out with a box, Jake gave a yell to let the man know where he was and then waved.

  The man stopped, acknowledged Jake’s wave, and started walking toward him. They met near the back corner of the yard.

  “Delivery for Jacob Lorde.”

  “I’m Jacob Lorde.”

  “Sign here, please,” the man said.

  Jake signed the delivery sheet. The driver handed him the package and drove away.

  Jake glanced at the return address as he headed toward the house and then stumbled when he saw the last name. DeSosa.

  The skin crawled on the back of his neck as he went back to the house. He took it to the kitchen, cut away the wrapping, and took the lid off the box. Tears welled the moment he saw the bottle of tequila. The plane ticket taped to the bottle was puzzling, but the letter in the envelope explained it all.

  Jacob Lorde, my name is Sophia. You do not know me, but I know you. My husband, Joaquin, spoke of you in every letter he sent home, and in every email message, and even when we Skyped. You were the brother he never had.

  He told me once that if anything ever happened to him, I was to send you a plane ticket to his funeral, a bottle of tequila, and to remind you that you still owe him five dollars from your last card game.

  As you can imagine, my heart is broken, but fulfilling a wish for him is almost like holding him in my arms once more. The time and date of Joaquin’s memorial service is at the bottom of this letter. The address of our home is beneath it.

  No pressure, but I hope we see you soon.

  “Well damn,” Jake said softly, then checked the calendar against the date of the service. There was no question of if he would go. He had to. He had a debt to pay.

  He was getting ready to go online and find a hotel to stay in when his cell phone rang. “Hello.”

  “Jake, this is Peanut Butterman. Just wanted to fill you in on the status of Ralph’s. Mrs. Sinclair is going to sell. After the funeral, she’ll see about getting it appraised so she’ll know what to ask for it. It’s likely to be a month or more before all of this happens. I told her you had interest in the property if she did, and she was pleased that it was you. There is no lien on the property, and she will sell it as is. Further details will be forthcoming, but I wanted to let you know where this stood.”

  Jake was encouraged by the news. “Thank you for the information. Please let me know when it’s about to go on sale. I would like to know what all is included in the selling price and possibly make an offer.”

  “Will do,” Peanut said. “Have a nice day. Oh, by the way. Don’t know if you’re aware of it or not, but this is the evening for the fall festival. It’s still as big a deal in Blessings as it ever was, and if you’re in the mood, you’d have a good time. Fun for all ages.”

  Jake thought of the flyer in his mailbox, and now, a second invitation to go. It seemed as if the universe was telling him to go.

  “Oh yes, I remember it well. I just might do that, and thanks for the reminder.”

  “See you there,” Peanut said, and hung up.

  Jake remembered going with his parents when he was a kid. It had actually been a pretty fun time for everyone. They used to have a big bingo area, an old-fashioned cakewalk, and lots of game booths set up. He wondered if Laurel and Bonnie were going and then frowned. He needed to stop basing his plans on hoping they would overlap hers and decided to go anyway. He didn’t have to stay if it didn’t feel right, but if he was thinking about starting a business that catered to the public, he should start mingling with them.

  However, he had a funeral to attend, so he went online, found a hotel very close to Sophia DeSosa’s address, and booked a room for two nights. Today was Saturday. The funeral was next Wednesday, so if he arrived Tuesday before noon, it would give him time to go to their home and pay his respects. The memorial service was the next afternoon at 2:00 p.m. He would fly home Thursday morning. Maybe it was a good thing. Facing the facts of one’s life always made it easier to accept.

  He was thoughtful and a little bit sad as he went back to the barn. After repairing the second granary, he headed for the house for a late lunch.

  By 6:00 p.m. that evening, Jake was on his way to town and only semi-anxious about stepping out of his comfort zone. By the time he arrived, the parking lot at school was packed. He finally found a place to park and headed toward the gym. The noise from inside was spilling out as he neared the building. A couple of teenage boys ran past him and darted inside. He followed them through the open doors and was immediately swallowed up by the slowly moving crowd of people stopping at the booths.

  Instead of feeling out of place, he saw dozens of people he knew and almost immediately saw Mike and LilyAnn. They pulled him into their midst and began plying him with bites of funnel cake and playing games at the boot
hs. By the time the cake was gone, they were all licking powdered sugar from their fingers. Full of sweets and getting tired, LilyAnn wanted off her feet. She and Mike wandered off to sit down, while Jake moved on.

  He saw kids crowded around the cakewalk, waiting their turn to play musical chairs, and remembered playing that when he was in middle school. The prize was usually a cake, or in this instance, an extravagantly decorated cupcake, after which they started over again with a different set of players.

  Jake was watching the kids squealing and running as they pushed and shoved to get to a chair before the music stopped. All of a sudden, there was a scramble for chairs, and he saw a flash of red and blue and then grinned when he realized it was Bonnie Payne. She came from behind a big boy and slipped into the chair just before he sat down—right in her lap.

  Everyone laughed, but the boy was out.

  Fascinated with the intensity of the look on Bonnie’s face, he watched from the sidelines as the game played on until Bonnie won. When they announced her name, she threw her hands in the air as if she’d scored a winning touchdown and strutted her way to the winner’s table to pick out a cupcake.

  Jake watched her go for the one that looked like a little, fat pumpkin. They put it in an equally small carryout box, and as soon as she had it, she went in the opposite direction, straight across the gym floor. He wondered where she was going and then saw Laurel manning the kissing booth, and his heart skipped a beat.

  She was taking money and handing out kisses as fast as she could, with a line of men halfway across the floor waiting for their turn. Before envy had time to burn, he saw the men walking away from the booth with big grins and red stickers on their cheeks in the shape of a woman’s lips. He was wondering how she’d react if he showed up at the booth when Bonnie saw him.

  “Jake!” she squealed, and ran toward him through the crowd, then launched herself into his arms. “You came! Did you see me win a cupcake?”

  “I sure did,” he said. “You’re really fast.”

  “I know!” she said, and then wiggled to be put down and grabbed him by the hand. “I have to go tell Mama where I’m going next, or she will worry. Grandma was supposed to walk around with me tonight, but she’s sick. I told Mama I was a big girl and would be ’sponserble.”