by June Shaw
Josie’s gaze met Babineaux’s. “I’m not feeling well. Thank you for watching Colin.” She hurried him away through the kitchen.
Outside, Colin trailed behind, flipping his football.
“You watch out for yourself,” LauraLee yelled, holding her side door open. “It was just announced on the radio. That young woman who’s been missing from the beach—her body washed up. They think she was strangled like the others.”
Jitters skittered through Josie.
“And did you hear?” LauraLee said. “The hurricane that got weaker stalled again. It might strengthen and turn toward our coastline.”
Josie tightened her arms to stop their trembling.
* * *
Concerns left her by the next afternoon when she drove Colin to the radio station.
Bold black letters across the front door said KVJA. Behind the door a waiting room held two chairs.
Angela Sanders, the receptionist, looked like a high school student. She gave a friendly greeting, asked them to be seated, and worked on a computer.
Josie’s fingers tapped on the wooden rim of her chair and she wondered if she’d made a mistake. How could she accomplish even the slightest portion of what she had hoped? She’d contacted the local Knights of Columbus and Chamber of Commerce and would be allowed at both of their next meetings. Afterward, she would speak to other organizations, urging all members to become aware. Organs were desperately needed. “Don’t only think about how donating is a great idea. Really think about the need. And sign up now to give yours.” That’s what she would say once she told the groups all the facts. She’d say many people could live full lives with new organs or tissues and how many, right in their region, were waiting for body parts. She’d also stress how many would die without them.
Would she really have the courage to do it?
Colin squirmed on the next chair, his wide eyes scanning the room and reminding her of the answer.
“Hey,” she said and he turned the inquisitive eyes up to hers. She smiled. “We’re here.”
A grin replaced his anxious expression. “Yeah.”
Angela glanced up from her computer. “He’ll see you now.” She pointed to a door with pebbled glass with Station Manager painted in red.
A tall figure approached behind the glass. The door opened. “Hi. Come on in, Colin. Josie. I’m Cheyenne Moore.” Moore was a balding man with a ruddy complexion and a balloon replacing his waistline. He stuck out a thick hand.
Josie rose and shook it.
Colin accepted Moore’s handshake and returned his friendly smile.
“Y’all come on in.” Scattered papers topped Moore’s desk. He indicated the only chair besides his. “Sorry I don’t have more places to sit. Or we could pull in a chair from out there.”
“It’s no problem,” Josie said.
Moore stood until she sat, then dropped to his worn leather chair. “Josie, you have what you wrote?”
When she handed him pages, he cocked back in his chair. “Mm,” Moore repeated during the long moments while he scanned the sheets and she tightened her lips.
Colin slid down to sit on her knee. Like his sister, he watched the man studying her papers.
Moore’s throat, from beneath folds of flesh hiding his neck, emitted small sounds. Finally his pale gray eyes rose. “You came up with this?”
Josie wasn’t sure she should admit it.
The man’s leathery face gave no expression, but once Josie nodded, it creased with a smile. “You have real creativity, young lady.” He leaned forward and his chair groaned. “If you ever need a job, you let me know.”
“Thank you.”
“Y’all come back tomorrow. We’ll be ready to use your copy then.”
Neither Josie nor Colin could believe Josie’s words would soon be on the air. She took him to get a burger and remained long enough for him to mess around in the playground.
At home they told Sylvie their news. She seemed excited but couldn’t join them at the station when Josie’s first piece would air. She needed to work but promised to be listening.
Andrew sounded thrilled.
After Josie hooked Colin to Fred, he phoned one friend after another. “I went to a real radio station,” he told them. “And my sister wrote some stuff that’s gonna be on tomorrow evening at six. Make sure you listen.”
At five thirty-nine the next afternoon Josie drove Colin to the station. She didn’t know why, after she’d finished work, she felt like really dressing up. No one would be seeing her except maybe two or three people working there. But she chose a mauve linen dress from her closet, feeling something special was about to begin.
Songs from the ’90s played while she and Colin waited. Seated beside Cheyenne Moore, Colin glued his gaze to the large rectangular window. Josie enjoyed watching him more than Jason Brown, the young disc jockey who greeted them like they were old friends.
Colin leaned toward the sound room. Jason grinned, gave him thumbs up, and held his paper high. Colin pressed his nose to the glass.
Allowing a second of quiet after a song ended, the disk jockey stretched his neck toward his microphone. “A thirty-year-old father just died. And now, a child.”
Everything went silent.
Jason’s voice came through the speakers. “If only that father had signed behind his driver’s license and offered his organs, the child who needed a heart could have lived.”
The DJ’s gaze rose to meet Colin’s. Unblinking, he said into the mic, “Think about it.”
A swell of emotions rose in Josie from the words she had written.
“Don’t Cry, Daddy” played.
The tears filling Josie’s eyes surprised her. Drying them, she heard a deep whimper.
Cheyenne Moore’s face had turned red. Sniffling, he wiped fat tears off his cheeks.
Dimples folded into Colin’s cheeks and his eyes flashed. “That was good, Josie. Great job.”
She mumbled thanks, and by then Moore had composed himself enough to speak. “Damn right, that was good.” He rose. “We’ll get the others taped this evening. Y’all can stay if you want. It might take awhile.”
Colin wanted to, but Josie didn’t. Her inner voice screamed at him. “Don’t you know that child could be you?”
The drama here made it too real.
After they left, Colin complained. He continued to gripe about leaving all the way home. Then the phone started to ring, and he forgot frustrations. Josie liked his enthusiasm when he spoke to different callers who told him how much they liked what they’d heard.
“Hey Josie, it’s for you,” Colin announced after one ring of the phone on his lap.
She smirked. “I can’t believe it. A call for me?”
“I know, huh?” He took the opportunity to lean back and relax.
“That was terrific, Josie,” LauraLee Allen said. “We were all touched by what you wrote.”
“Thanks. It can only happen because of contributions from your family and others who care.”
“I think a whole lot of people will be touched by what you’re saying.”
“I hope so.”
“I’m going to keep the radio loud to hear your others.”
Josie glanced at her own stereo. She would be sure to keep it silent.
“I’ll let you go, hon. Come over soon, you hear?”
“I will, Mrs. Allen.” If you don’t have company.
Once she hung up, the phone rang again. “Oh, Josie” Sylvie sounded different. “That commercial really touched me.”
“I’m glad, Mom.” Josie knew what she’d called her but didn’t correct herself. Their mother was crying. Tears burned her own eyes.
“How’s Colin?” Sylvie asked. “What’s he doing?” For once she didn’t sound like she was hurried. She hadn’t made a call from work and then made it sound as if her children were bothering her.
“Fine. Do you want to talk to him?”
She did. Josie gave Colin the receiver and left the
room, allowing them privacy. “Yeah, it was great,” she heard him say. “You should’ve seen all those big speakers.”
Glancing back, Josie saw his eyes sparkling.
For almost two hours Colin remained on the phone. Josie laughed when she would walk through the den and see him jabbering. Twice she heard him telling someone, “Wait a minute. Somebody else is calling.” Then he’d put the person on hold, answer the next caller and say, “Yeah, it was great.”
Josie walked from her room down the hall.
“Hey Josie, a man called for you,” Colin said.
She strode to the den. “Who was it?”
The phone lay on his lap. Looking weary, he shrugged.
“Did he ask to speak to me?”
“No, he just said tell you don’t worry. He’ll be coming to get you real soon.”
The phone on the child’s lap rang. He answered and began relaying what they’d done at the station.
Josie turned cold. Who was coming to get her? And why?
Chapter 15
Andrew reached their house. Soon afterward, Sylvie arrived. They had both heard Josie’s other two advertisements. Raving, they found the words touching. Josie hadn’t allowed herself or Colin to hear them. After the way she felt while listening at the station, she didn’t want to go through that experience again. She knew the need for organs and knew well enough what would happen if someone sitting beside her didn’t get one.
She’d wondered about the man caller but dismissed the message once she asked Colin later and he said the men didn’t mention her name; he just asked to speak to his sister. Someone certainly could have called the wrong number.
Colin bounced with enthusiasm, his hands never stopping while they accentuated his story. “You should see what a real DJ sounds like up close,” he enthused, “especially when he’s looking straight at you. And he did this to me.” Colin raised his thumb.
Andrew slapped palms with him, and Josie thought Colin looked a foot taller. He tossed a football across the den to Andrew, who said, “Bet you can’t get this one.”
Colin scrambled. “Got it.” He tucked the ball to his chest and shifted behind a stuffed chair. “Catch this.”
Andrew scooped up the ball and tossed it back. “A high pass.” The football bounced off the ceiling. “Whoops,” Andrew said as the overhead fan wobbled. A bulb from it shattered.
Colin gave a slight cough. Then bent over with giggles. “I’m glad you did it and not me.”
“What a good influence you are,” Josie said, grinning. She helped Andrew scoop up the glass. Sylvie came in with a new bulb, telling Andrew it was no problem when he apologized.
Colin stopped laughing and he said, “I guess you need some lessons in throwing, huh Andrew?”
“I guess so. Maybe Sunday I’ll take you on for a game at the park.”
“Yeah!” Colin’s face gleamed. His hand shot up in the air. With his sleeve falling back, Josie could clearly see new pocking farther up his arm. Even though they’d played only a short time, he was winded.
After the room was back in order, she and Andrew had iced tea in the kitchen. Then Josie headed out the door with him but noticed the den was totally quiet. She went back to peek.
Colin nestled against Sylvie on the sofa. She had him swaddled beneath her arm and was murmuring into his hair with her finger tracing his shoulder.
An instinct told Josie to get the camera.
But that would break the endearment. Her intrusion would put a halt to this instance, so special and so seldom experienced.
Instead of the camera, she let her mind capture the scene.
* * *
Andrew started her car with no problem. “How about if we drive down to the beach?” he asked Josie.
“I’m with you.” She slid into the front passenger seat.
He took the old highway down to the coast and parked in a spot overlooking the water. They rolled down windows to hear the surf’s whistle and get the scent of sea spray.
“Pretty moon,” Andrew said once they’d sat awhile without speaking.
His words broke Josie’s trace, and she paid more attention to his arm holding her. She wished she felt like returning his smile.
He squeezed her arm. “I know you’re anxious, but worrying won’t help.”
So he knew where her thoughts were. “You know what?” she said “Colin is so happy for a boy in Gulfport who’s having a transplant tomorrow. But you know how I feel? Jealous. I’m jealous because somebody else gets a better chance of surviving. How horrible is that?”
He rubbed her shoulder. “I’m sure your campaign will help.”
“How much good can I do? Oh Andrew, why do people get so hung up about keeping everything on their bodies after they’re dead? It’s only skin. A cornea. Or a kidney.”
“You’re doing what you can, but you can’t expect miracles. Everybody isn’t going to run out and say, ‘Here, please take mine.’”
She offered a grim smile. “Why not?”
Lifting her hand, Andrew studied it by the slit of moonlight that fell through the windshield.
“He’s not getting better,” Josie said, as both of them knew. Her chest heaved. “Sometimes I get so angry I think I could actually kill to get Colin a kidney.”
Andrew chuckled. “You don’t like to kill ants and won’t let me swat a fly.”
His mirth enraged her more, until the absurdity of her comment made her lips twist into a slight grin.
He pulled her closer. “You might be helpless in that situation, but I know one you could help out with.” When her eyebrows rose, he said, “I need some snuggling. I believe you’ve forgotten me.”
Josie kissed him. “Never.” She peered at his eyes while his arms tightened around her. She had felt trapped in the depth of those dark eyes ever since they met.
She drew her head back. She needed to ask about what kept troubling her. “Is something happening with you?”
Andrew straightened. “Me?”
“Sometimes I’ve phoned when you said you’d be home. You didn’t call back or give me any explanation.”
“Do you want me to tell you everywhere I go?” he asked with a wry laugh.
“No.” There was so little, actually probably nothing. Yet he also hid those numbers at Big Ted’s. His forehead knitted with a frown.
She hated accusing him. He wasn’t her father.
Sound carried of waves splashing the shore while her mind filled with questions. Why had he showed a similar pattern as before? Taking his hand, Josie asked softly, “Do you think we should start going to those meetings again?”
He looked injured. “We worked on my problem together. I’ve had to fight my addiction, but I believe it’s totally under control. Why don’t you?”
She wished her life didn’t feel so heavy. She wanted to let go of her concerns.
“If I start to fear that it’s coming back strong again,” he said, “I’ll tell you. Then I’d go back to the groups.”
“I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
“I understand. I really do.”
They shared a brief kiss. He peered at the gulf. So did she. While both mulled on their thoughts, the wind blew stronger and cooled. Stringy gray clouds slid past. A handful of stars came out.
Andrew appeared to be brooding. He looked at Josie, his expression a mixture of hurt and anger, and the pain inside her made her want to slam away everything that had happened before and take away what she’d said.
Andrew turned on the radio.
“She was definitely strangled, but the sheriff has no leads. Her family is offering a reward.”
He turned it off and stared at Josie. “You need to be careful.”
She tilted her head. “Do you think he wants me?”
“You never can tell.” A small smile brightened Andrew’s face. “Any guy would be a fool not to.”
“Well thanks.”
“You know what I mean.” He gave her lips a light kiss and drew his he
ad back. “Maybe you could take a course in self defense.”
She threw a playful karate chop. “Sure. I have lots of time for that.”
His hands intercepted hers. “Sometimes you get home late. You shouldn’t go shopping at night.”
“Somebody needs to get groceries.”
“Yes, but you need to be careful. You won’t carry a gun, but you ought to have something.”
She smirked. “A knife?”
“Sure, but you wouldn’t use it.” Andrew’s eyes clouded in thought. “You could carry your keys, anything, and have them ready when you go out to your car.”
“Don’t worry, if anyone comes at me, I’ll jab him.” She grabbed her purse, raised it, and softly tapped it down against his neck.
“Good girl.” Shoving the purse aside, he wrapped his arms around her. “And if somebody in this car tried to get to you now, what would you do?”
She peered at his face. Josie slid her body to mesh tighter against his. “Give in.”
The comfort of his loving combined with the gulf breeze promised Josie that her life would be lovely.
* * *
Few cars were out when Josie drove to work the next wet morning. Lightning followed a crack of thunder. She jumped, then forced herself to stare ahead through the sheets of rain and not peer at the dark sky to wonder where the next lightning bolt would come from.
Headlights shimmied across her windshield. She couldn’t see the centerline or the side of the street and wasn’t sure she was in her own lane.
A passing truck sent a water spray over her view. She clutched the steering wheel. Rain cooled the day but her palms sweated. Blood pulsated harder through her temples.
The scene was the same as right after the girl died.
Jill—that was her name.
A finger of lightning touched down, exactly like it did back then. That flash of light had pronounced Jill dead.
“Get those kids away from here!” Jill’s father, a huge man with a bull face, screamed. Jill’s mom’s face had turned the color of ashes. She was such a little lady, and the sobs that finally left her lips seemed much too large for her.
It could’ve been me, Josie remembered thinking.
A cold numbness enveloped her. She turned left at Randolph Street and drove, still immersed in that scene. Someone had phoned for Sylvie but she couldn’t be found. Where had she been? Josie tried to recall.
