“What?” Willow asked hesitantly, the smallness of her voice ripping Jedda’s guts out.
“We’ve won every time. Every single time.”
Chapter Seven
“She’s in good hands,” Betty said as she slid another spatula full of scrambled eggs onto the plate in front of Jedda. “Michael will make sure she’s safe while they talk to the police and file the restraining order. I know it’s hard to sit back and let other people help, but that’s what friendship is all about.”
“Thanks, Betty. I know he’s looking out for her. All of you are. It’s just so quiet here and my mind keeps going to that guy. That bastard putting his hands on her. It just brings me right back to when we were kids and I . . .” Jedda felt his hand closing tightly around his glass of orange juice.
“Don’t go busting that glass, it’s one of my favorites,” she said as she took it from his hand and moved to the sink to soak the dishes. “I know watching people we love get hurt is like torture, but she ain’t getting hurt anymore. Not while I’m around. Not while any of us are. You just have to trust. You just have to.”
As he shoveled another forkful of egg into his mouth, chasing it with a strip of bacon, Jedda tried to let an image of these people form in his mind. He pictured them with linked arms, surrounding Willow in protection.
“Well at least you haven’t lost your appetite,” Betty sang as she crossed the room, two more strips of bacon ready for him.
“I’m going to work out this morning so I want to make sure I have a lot of fuel to burn off.”
“I think there might be some weights that belonged to Stan out in the shed. They’d be buried under all the stuff I’ve got out there, so you’d get a workout just trying to find them. What else do you do, like jumping jacks or something?”
“The one thing you have a lot of time for in prison is exercise. I was benching about three hundred pounds and I did a lot of boxing. Not against anyone else, just a bag, but it was a good work out.”
“There’s one of those out there too, I think,” Betty said, lighting up with excitement. “Anything in there is up for grabs.”
Jedda took the last bite of his breakfast and headed for the door. This was part of what he’d been missing since he left prison and he was anxious to start sweating again, and if there was a punching bag in there, it would hopefully help him work out some of the overwhelming desire to beat the hell out of Brad.
He pulled open the heavy doors of the left leaning shed and coughed as a puff of dust rose to his face. Waving it away he stepped inside and took in his surroundings. There were stacks of boxes pushed against the walls and stray lawn equipment down by his feet. As he peered deeper into the shed he saw the leathery red material of a punching bag and the shiny metal bar of a weight bench. He felt a small piece of his anger slide away, and he knew this was the right thing for him.
It took forty minutes to shift things around in the shed enough to be able to rehang the punching bag and set up the weight bench, which was a little rickety. He slipped his hands into the old gloves and sucked in a deep breath before slamming his fists into the heavy red bag. It was, as he hoped, more calming than anything he’d done since leaving prison. The rhythmic clanking of the chain as he let loose was like music to his ears. He felt his knuckles begin to ache and he knew the skin that had softened slightly over the last week, was breaking. He didn’t care though, it felt too good to stop. The sweat that was pouring down from his head ran into his eyes, but he didn’t wipe it away. He moved his feet, back and forth like a dance, feeling the dirt floor of the shed shifting below him.
When his body could physically take no more, he dropped heavily to the weight bench and rested his head on the slight cushion of his boxing gloves. His body was coursing with energy, his blood pulsing its way through his body. When he caught his breath again, he stood, but a lightness in his head had him grabbing the closest thing for support. He leaned on a box that quickly gave way under his weight, and the contents spilled everywhere.
On the floor lay a pile of newspaper articles, a few books with titles Jedda didn’t recognize, and a white robe. As he picked up the clippings from the paper, it took him a moment to realize what the headlines meant. Klan surges in response to civil rights, and New leadership strengthens the Klan. Bombing, beatings, and cross burnings increase.
Jedda picked up a few of the tattered paperback books, their titles all linked to the Klu Klux Klan, one more insulting and bigoted than the last. A framed picture, with the glass cracked, lay down by his feet. As he lifted it he pushed the dust off so he could get a better look. A man standing in his Klan robe, his white hat removed so his proud face could be seen. Next to him was a small gangly girl with pigtails and a solemn-looking woman.
Why any of this stuff was out here confused the hell out of Jedda. Betty seemed to be the most tolerant and accepting person he’d met in his life and she certainly didn’t come across as racist. As he leaned over to place the photo back in the box he heard a quiet voice.
“That’s my daddy there. Doesn’t he look so proud?” Betty asked as she tucked her hands into her pockets and leaned against the doorframe of the shed.
“I’m sorry, the box fell over. I wasn’t going through everything,” Jedda apologized as he replaced the photo in the box and leaned down to pick up the books.
“He does look proud though doesn’t he?” Betty asked again.
“He does.” Jedda agreed, uncomfortably.
“That’s me and my mama standing next to him. We don’t look quite as proud do we?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head as he put the remaining items back in the box.
“When the civil rights movement started I was very young. My first memory of it was when, on a hot summer day, I ran to a water fountain to get a drink, pulled myself up on a stool, and heard my mother scream as though she was on the verge of being murdered. She yanked me by my ponytail and told me that water wasn’t for me. It was dirty water. I remember thinking why on earth would they let dirty water come up there. Shouldn’t there be a sign? Obviously as I got older I realized there was a sign. Just a different kind of sign. It took me years to realize who my father was and what he was doing to people all in the name of purity and holiness. It’s a shame I carry with me every day.”
“You shouldn’t be ashamed of what he did. You were a kid,” Jedda said, taking a seat again on the weight bench.
“Unfortunately it’s not always easy to sort out how you feel about things that happened when you’re young. You get a little twisted up in what you could control and what is your fault. You worry that some of that is inside of you. There is a lot of guilt when you stood by and did nothing.”
“You do a lot now.”
“I try to.”
“Why keep the box?” Jedda asked, feeling like maybe his question was too bold.
“It’s a reminder of how close hate is to all of us. It’s around every corner, and if you forget it’s there, you’re quick to let it in your heart. But with reminders like that, I never lose sight of who I don’t want to be. Who I will never become. But there are still days I beat myself up for what happened in and around my home when I was young.”
“Do you think that’s what Willow is doing?” Jedda asked, making the connection. “Do you think she feels guilty for what happened, for what I did?”
“I’m a very good reader of people. I pride myself on understanding the many layers of the human condition, but your sister is a mystery to me. Why did she come here when she was in trouble? I would think because she knows you would protect her. So then, why does she want to run away so quickly now? She’s got everything a child could ask for—good parents, lots of opportunities—but she gets mixed up with a guy like Brad. I kept asking myself, why is she so confusing to me? Then it hit me, because that’s what she is, confused. I can’t figure her out because she can’t figure herself out. I thought back to a time in my life when I felt that way. And I thought of that box right there.”<
br />
“What can I do for her? She has nothing to feel guilty about. She didn’t do anything wrong. Should I tell her that?”
“There’s nothing anyone can tell her to change her mind. It’s a place she needs to come to on her own.”
“How did you get there? How did you stop being confused?”
“I took control of my own life. I stopped beating myself up about it and decided the best thing I could do was be a person who could make a difference. I’d love everyone. I wouldn’t judge people, I’d give them a chance. And every time I do that, I heal a little bit. I am not responsible for my father’s actions. Understanding that changed my life.”
Jedda nodded his head as he struggled to understand what Willow might be feeling. Betty pulled a towel from her shoulder and tossed it over to him.
“Clean up and I’ll get you a drink. We can chat more on the porch for a bit.”
As Betty disappeared from the doorway Jedda sat quietly for a moment, staring at the box filled with hate. He hadn’t realized his sister might be struggling; it was easy to see that the trouble with Brad would be troubling her, but maybe it was deeper.
As he stood to leave he heard a car pulling into the driveway, rumbling over the popping gravel. He walked to the door of the shed but hesitated when he didn’t recognize the car.
He watched as Betty stepped out on the porch with her shotgun hanging in her hand. The car door swung open and, much to Jedda’s surprise, out stepped a familiar face. He held his breath as he watched Crystal swing her door closed. He saw the streaks of her blonde hair catching the sun and glistening back at him. She walked confidently toward the house with a beaming smile, the smile that always made his heart jump, but then she stopped suddenly. He could hear the words from his hiding spot in the shed, and though his mind was telling him to go to her, his body was motionless.
“Is that a gun?” Crystal asked, stumbling back slightly, her eyes turning from bright cheery slits that complimented her smile to wide and frightened.
“That’s how I greet unannounced strangers showing up on my door. Now who sent you here?”
“I’m a friend of Jedda’s. My name is Crystal,” she answered, instinctively raising her hands into the air.
“That’s funny, he’s never mentioned you before, Crystal,” Betty said, lowering the gun to her side but keeping an unwelcoming stance.
Jedda watched as a look of wounded disappointment crept across Crystal’s tired face. “He hasn’t mentioned me at all?” she asked, lowering her hands and biting at her thumbnail nervously. “Are you sure?”
Betty seemed to read the same change in expression, and her empathy kicked in. “Well, things have been crazy round here, and he’s a quiet guy. Now how did you say you know him?”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I was worried, but I can see he has all the protection he needs. I should go.” At the sight of Crystal turning on her heels to leave, Jedda’s body caught up with his mind. He made his way across the yard quickly as Crystal reached her car.
“Wait,” he shouted, his voice cracking with nerves. “Crystal, don’t go.”
“Jedda,” she said, not making a move to come back toward him, her hand still on the handle of her car door. “I hadn’t heard from you. Which now I guess I should have taken as a hint.”
“I’m sorry. Some stuff came up with my sister and I’ve just been trying to keep my head straight about it. Did you come down here just to check on me? What about work, did you get time off?”
“I got a lot of time off. I got fired,” Crystal choked out, her cheeks going red, clearly not comfortable with the reality of her statement yet.
“Why?” he asked. He didn’t want to let himself be distracted by the ache in Crystal’s eyes but he felt himself being pulled toward her.
“Because of you I think. After my boss fired me I went out to my car and there was a note on my windshield. Something along the lines of needing to choose my friends better next time and that some things aren’t worth the trouble. It implied that you’d be back in prison soon. I assumed it was a message someone wanted me to deliver to you, so I came. Michael had given me the address so I could write you and keep in touch. I guess it was presumptuous of me to come down here. I could have just called and told Michael what happened.” Crystal kicked at a rock with the toe of her boot and stared down at the ground. Jedda knew he could swoop in here. Tell her she was right for coming and take away the blanket of embarrassment that she was caught under. But he hesitated.
“Maybe Michael can help you get your job back. They can’t fire you just for being nice to me. That’s not legal, I’m sure.” Jedda knew what he was saying was not enough; he knew Crystal was here for more, hoping he would have been happier to see her. He was happy, but showing her that would only lead her on.
“I don’t want my job back. I’m a grown-up. I have a savings account. Practically every major city in the country has a courthouse. Finding another job won’t be difficult. But I won’t work for a person who finds it so easy to fire an employee of nine years just because someone is pulling the strings. I’ll be fine. I’m going to head out though.” Crystal pulled her car door open and waved an awkward goodbye.
“Just a minute there, Crystal,” Betty said, grabbing a basket from the corner of the porch and racing down the stairs toward the car. “Will you do me a favor before you go? You see that path down there, to the left of that big oak?”
“Yes.” Crystal nodded.
“Can you go on down there about two hundred yards or so and pick me some wild flowers? I need them for my table tonight for dinner and these old knees just aren’t made for gardening any more. I’m not picky about what you bring back.” Betty shoved the basket into Crystal’s arms and closed her car door for her. Before the shock could turn to questions, Betty made her way back to the porch.
“You have any change in your pockets?” she asked Jedda who now matched Crystal’s look of disbelief and uncertainty.
“No.”
Betty dug into her pocket and pulled out a couple of quarters and slapped them into Jedda’s hand. “Go with the girl. Stop being an idiot.”
“What are the quarters for?” Jedda asked as he heard the heavy front door that was almost always open slammed in his face. He stared at it for a long moment, hoping Betty might be back out to explain what the hell she was talking about. But when she didn’t reappear he turned to find Crystal.
“I’m getting flowers?” she asked, gesturing down to the basket.
“And I’m going with you.” He shrugged and they both smiled at the peculiar circumstance of this mission.
They headed down behind the house, past the oak, just as Betty had instructed. The path was overgrown to the point where they could only pass through single file. Jedda walked out ahead of Crystal, holding the wiry branches that were just starting to bud with the spring heat. He pinned them back long enough to ensure they didn’t slap into her face.
“Do you really think there are flowers back here? Its just woods,” Crystal wondered out loud, ducking to avoid a low hanging limb.
“I don’t know. I’ve only been here a few days and I don’t really have a good handle on everyone. Betty is special; she seems to care about people, like she’s always trying to help even when it just looks like she’s butting in.”
“Oh, so you think she just didn’t want me to leave? She wanted us alone in the woods together?” Crystal asked, stumbling over a rock and slamming into Jedda’s back. “Sorry.” She grabbed his shoulders to steady herself and the smell of her familiar lotion made him want to turn and kiss her.
“You all right?” he asked, turning and offering his hand. Before she could answer her eyes grew wide and she pointed over her shoulder.
“Holy cow,” she whispered.
“Is it a bear?” Jedda asked freezing and hunching his shoulders over like he might be mauled at any minute.
“No look, a clearing and it’s full of wild flowers.” She pushed past him and
walked out into the open field that seemed to stretch forever. It was dotted with the brightest purple and yellow blooms. Off to the left was a loosely stacked ring of stones with a wood roof built up over the top of it.
“Is that a wishing well?” Crystal asked, moving toward it without any hesitation.
“Be careful. It looks like it’s about to fall over. Don’t get too close.”
“Jedda, if you never get close to anything you never get a good enough look to know if it’s magic.”
“You think that thing is magic? Like a leprechaun is about to jump out and grant you a wish?”
“No, but if I had any coins, I’d sure as hell throw one in. Just in case.”
Jedda reached into his pocket and pulled out the two quarters Betty had handed to him. That woman was a puppet master. Frighteningly good. He jogged up to Crystal’s side and placed one of the coins in her hand. “Here, now you can make a wish,” he said, gesturing to the well.
“What about you, aren’t you going to toss one in?”
“I’ve done a lot of wishing in my life, I think I’d do better to keep my quarter.”
“Suit yourself.” She shrugged as she peeked her head down into the dark opening of the well. “Hello,” she called and smiled when the echo of her voice reverberated around her. She closed her eyes, held the quarter tight in her hands, pressed it over her heart, and then dropped it down the well.
“Which flowers should we pick?” Jedda asked, looking out over the open field. “I don’t know what goes together.”
“They’re wild flowers, that’s the beauty of them. They all go together,” Crystal answered as she knelt down and began plucking stems topped with all different colors and placing them gently into the basket. “We should get them back to Betty.” Crystal averted her eyes from Jedda’s.
Finding Freedom (Book 4) (Piper Anderson Series) Page 7
