by Lee Lynch
“Don’t you need a car to shop at a Beverage Bay?” Jimmy Neal asked in a loud voice.
Jaudon’s grin stretched her face. It wasn’t exactly true, but she called out, “Yes, sirree.”
“You heard the lady.”
Lady. He couldn’t have chosen a worse word, thought Jaudon.
The kids retreated, chorusing, “That’s no lady.”
Jimmy Neal started toward them. Jaudon had to stop from taking on the jerks herself.
The boys turned and walked toward the curb. Once in the driveway the smallest of them raised his middle finger in the air and yelled, “That’s for the lesbo inside. Did she have to hire a moose to protect herself?”
Jimmy Neal caught her as she launched toward the kid.
“Don’t let them see you upset, Miss Vicker. It makes them worse.”
Jaudon knew that was true. She shook his hand in welcome. “Call me Jaudon,” she said. Behind the counter she found his oversized blue jacket on which Momma had one of her cashiers stitch Jimmy Neal.
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you for averting my catastrophe out there.”
He shrugged and somehow twinkled his eyes at her. “My last job, I was a bouncer. This is child’s play. Literally.”
Jaudon started his training without delay, but they kept getting distracted, talking about this and that. He gave no sign that he remembered picking on her in school. Was he cowed because she was his boss? As far as she was concerned, he wasn’t her tormentor anymore, so he had nothing to worry about from her. Jimmy Neal was almost as funny as Rigo. He joked with the customers. He wasn’t fast, but he never shirked, moving along in a big man splay-footed way that was as comical as his one-liners. The Bay seemed brighter with Jimmy Neal there, the work easier.
At one point she asked, “Are you and Rigo…?”
Jimmy Neal, in what seemed to be his natural response to the world, did that eye twinkling thing again. “Wish me luck that it’s not trifling-sized guys Rigo likes. I can’t squeak into that category sideways.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
They were on the porch swing when Cullie and her truck arrived in a cloud of dust and sand. Her pool cleaning route took her through Rainbow Gap. Developers had built a housing estate not five miles down the road from Pineapple Trail and half the houses had pools. One of the Culpepper cousins was a pool builder who always recommended Cullie to his customers.
Cullie spent half an hour or so drinking sweet tea on the porch with Berry and Jaudon, often pouring out her heart, this time about the giggler from the picnic and how she went back to her boyfriend.
“She didn’t take to our way of life?” Berry asked.
“The ex-boyfriend harassed her so much she gave in to him. I don’t understand the attraction to such a pest. You’d think God saw what he did wrong with Adam and corrected everything with Eve. Why he didn’t improve on all the Adams to follow confounds me.”
Jaudon was grateful for the distraction from ear pain and this everlasting headache.
“You stay in touch with Allison? I’d drop her like a pan of flaming okra,” said Jaudon.
Cullie’s face was a mix of embarrassment and pleasure. “I was waiting to tell you—she let that miserable weasel have one last chance. After that, Allison gave her the old heave-ho. What a fricking relief.” She threw her arms wide. “Can you blame her when she can have a prize like me?”
“Cullie,” said Berry with an affectionate laugh, “you are so full of it. You’re the last person to brag on yourself.”
“Seriously, the feds are flying Allison to Puerto Rico to testify. If she agrees to withdraw her suit, all her charges will be dropped.”
“Why would anyone champion a bunch of bombers?” Jaudon asked.
“Ah, young grasshopper, there’s where Allison’s razor sharp mind comes into play.”
Jaudon said, “Uh-oh.”
“Allison isn’t going to PR at all. She has to change planes in New York and plans to disappear in the crowds at LaGuardia and make her way to Florida in time for the demonstration.”
“Oh boy,” Jaudon said. “The bombers will be after her along with the marshals.”
“No, her lawyer said the government wants to jail these Puerto Rican independence guys so bad they’ll give in and take her deposition in Florida to avoid a delay.”
Jaudon asked, “Why in heck didn’t she stay in a hotel in Puerto Rico when she first went? Who wants to get mixed up with those Commies down there? They should be grateful the US protects them.”
“I didn’t understand either,” said Cullie. “Allison explained how it all connects up. The island is so small, a lot of the groups help one another out. Crash pads, rallies—”
“Bombs,” said Jaudon.
Berry took Jaudon’s hand. “Allison’s passionate about women’s rights, not bombs.”
“She wanted to show support from stateside women,” said Cullie.
“I don’t know why you have to be involved in her passion, Berry. You have your own.”
Cullie teased her. “Who? You?”
Jaudon was sulky about the whole thing again. “Why do there have to be wars and protests about laws? Why do people fight about every little thing when we were promised World War II was the end of war? Skin colors are causing riots, women can’t have abortions but they’re not always supposed to have babies, you can’t find peace in religion because everyone else’s religion is wrong. Leave it be, is my opinion.”
Berry squeezed her hand. “How in the world will Allison get here from New York?” she asked Cullie.
“That’s what I’m worried about. I’m lucky they rehired me at work, but if I ask for more time off to drive up and fetch her, they’ll can me. And I’d have to borrow the car I wrecked on my sister again.”
“Why would you want to go?” asked Jaudon. “After what she did to you?”
Cullie grinned and shrugged.
“Because she’s in love with Allison.” Berry pointed at a wicker chair that had seen better days.
Cullie sat; Kirby clawed at the unraveling edge to climb into her lap, but Cullie leapt up again and paced to the steps, to the chair, stretched her arms out from her sides, and wailed. “What do I do?”
Kirby clawed at Jaudon’s leg. “Pick up your mutt before she draws blood.”
Cullie swept Kirby into her arms and stood her up to face her hosts. “Mutt? No one dares to address Kirby as a mutt. I’ll have you know she has champions in her bloodline.”
“She’ll be the breakfast of champions if you don’t stop her from tearing me and that chair to shreds,” Jaudon said. “Are you really in love with that firebrand Allison, no if, ands, or buts?”
Berry clapped her hands, a joyful look on her face. “What other reason for Cullie to be all juberous to see her?”
“What is that, one of your Okefenokee Swamp words?”
“I never did live in that swamp, Cullie, and you know it.”
“Near enough to be personal friends with Pogo.”
“Are you looking for an introduction to Pogo, Cullie?”
“Okay, you two,” said Jaudon. “Nothing wrong with being born in Georgia. Tell us more of your woes, Cullie.”
“It may be hard to believe, my leetle friends, but Allison wants to be with me.”
“Jiminy, how can she expect that?”
Berry said, “I’d be pleased to see her again, but she can’t ask you of all people to be her welcoming committee, Cullie.”
“I’ll welcome the woman for you,” said Jaudon. “I’ll give her what for up one side and down the other.”
“You might as well get used to her. She’s not planning to leave any time soon.” Cullie hugged Kirby to her.
“She’s staying? Not visiting? That’s terrific.”
“Allison wants to talk with you some more, Berry, about starting up that women’s clinic for lesbians and single women and migrant moms. She thinks this area is a natural with so much poverty.”
&nb
sp; Jaudon leaned forward. “I’ll be dog. She’s going to pull you in deeper, Berry.”
Berry cut her eyes at Jaudon. “I wish you’d stop being so ornery.”
In a fake wheedling voice, Cullie said, “Kirby’s infatuated with her.”
“Is there a human on earth that Kirby doesn’t fall for?”
“Jaudon, Kirby’s very discerning.”
“That’s why there’s puppy spit all over me whenever she leaves?”
“Kirby dotes on you, even when you say insulting things about her.”
Berry said, “I hope Allison understands we need to keep the demonstration low-key. She can run away—we’re staying put.”
“You might have a problem. There isn’t any such thing as moderation and Allison Millar.”
“Don’t we know it.”
“Momma warned she’ll be hoppin’ mad if she catches me out with those unpatriotic hippies.”
Berry said, “We are not hippies. Or unpatriotic. Your momma should know me better.”
“Aw, heck, Berry. That’s how Momma thinks.”
“Well, keep her away from Four Lakes during the march.”
“March?” Jaudon reached over to the arm of Berry’s chair. “It’s a march now?”
Berry patted her hand. “If they approve the permit.”
“Permit? What do you need a permit for?”
“You can’t hold a march in any city without a police permit.”
“Police? Why are you bringing the police in on this? I thought a few of you were planning to stand around baking in the sun with your signs.”
This time it was Berry and Cullie who looked at each other.
“Don’t you read the news, amiga?” Cullie said.
“I keep telling Momma we should sell newspapers, but she won’t mess with returns. I like staying in the dark, to be honest with you. Why? What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” Cullie spread her arms wide. “Where have you been hiding out, Jaudon Vicker? Berry hasn’t talked to you about what we’re marching about? The things we’re trying to correct? Equal Rights Amendment? Title IX? Ms. magazine? The Radical Feminists? Women’s Equality Day? We have a lot of wrongs to fix and we’re not very popular with the establishment.”
“Jaudon works more than full-time. She’s hardly home to follow the news and when she is, she’s studying.”
“I take TV breaks for Sanford and Son and Chico and the Man. That’s about it.” Jaudon smiled at Berry. “And Sunday mornings belong to us, but we’re not talking about the wrongs of the world.”
“I’ll bet you’re not,” Cullie said, cracking a smile. “The march and rally won’t be like the segregation protests,” said Cullie. “Those were dangerous in the extreme. Protesters got killed.”
“But you weren’t there.”
“I was. With my parents. I don’t remember much. My father carried me and ran from the fire hoses. My mother was knocked down by the water. Two fellas picked her up by the elbows and rushed her to my father. She was soaked and scraped up, but I was fine.”
“And you’re going to one of these riots?”
“Jaudo, what a wild imagination. I bet you picture Berry smashing in a plate-glass window with her bare hands and running through the streets naked with a refrigerator in her arms.”
Jaudon angled her thumbs down. “That’s more your style, Cullie.”
“At least I’d have Kirby to help me haul it.”
Berry said, “Don’t start me laughing, you two. Things have changed, Jaudon. The police have better training and women don’t scare them much, so there’s less violence. Not that we don’t have reason to be violent.”
“For what?”
Berry saw the anger in the knots of Jaudon’s jaw muscles. They’d return to the subject another time, when they didn’t have company.
She said, “How about some lunch? Gran has egg salad made up. Jaudon insists on Wonder Bread—that okay by you?”
“How about mustard? I’ll eat anything with mustard on it,” said Cullie.
Jaudon tried to push her anger away and join in the lunch fun. She didn’t want this circus in her life: the war, civil rights, the feminists, the gay lib thing. All she asked was to spend her time loving Berry, Gran, Zefer, Toby, Rigo, Cullie, and the stores. She’d also appreciate being able to hear again.
Chapter Thirty
June 1974
Allison Millar once again blasted her way into their midst like a meteor.
Jaudon was sorely disappointed when she saw her drive in and set the kickstand of a bunged up motorbike well away from the dry grasses in the front yard.
Berry ran out and hugged her. “I thought you loved the West Coast.”
Allison’s hair had grown out. “I got tired of mind games. And the rain and cold. Florida is the place for me.”
Berry didn’t ask if Cullie had anything to do with her return.
“You drove that rattletrap all the way from New York City?”
“Little old me did just that, Jaudon Vicker. Women can do anything. I didn’t want the feds to be able to track me through the airlines.”
Jaudon walked around the bike, studying it.
“I cashed in the unused part of my airline ticket in New York to pay for a train to Tampa. On the bus ride into the city to catch the train, I picked up a newspaper that someone left behind and found this little beauty in the want ads. As soon as I got into Manhattan, I found a pay phone and told the owner, a kid at NYU, if he had the paperwork ready, I’d pay him cash on the spot. It’s a 1955 Adler 250cc, whatever that means. Somebody brought it over from Germany when it was new, but college guys have been selling it to one another ever since.”
“Wasn’t it scary, all by yourself?”
“I wanted to see more of the country, Berry. I stayed at women’s land and found a women’s clinic I toured for ideas.”
Jaudon said, “The exhaust pipe is rusted.” The light blue-green paint was worn off in spots. Allison’s canvas rucksack was strapped to a rack behind the seat with rubber straps and hooks. It wasn’t a real motorcycle; it was one of those little bikes they drove around on in Gulfport and Sarasota that sounded like someone shaking a can of dried beans.
“I have to sell it. I can’t use a motorcycle to make home visits and give talks in the community. Before I left I applied for two jobs. Both called Cullie’s phone and set up interview times. I have enough money from selling my car to buy a little buggy to get me around.”
As much as she didn’t approve of how Allison lived her life, Jaudon was mesmerized by the machine. “How much?” she asked.
“Jaudon?” Berry had a headlong attack of nerves. “You want to buy a motorcycle?”
“Why not? It’s a little bitty one and can free up the van for you so you don’t have to pick me up nights.”
“It’s not safe,” said Berry. “I’d worry about you constantly with your balance as off kilter as it has been.”
She’d forgotten about Berry’s folks disappearing on their motorcycle. “It got Allison here in one piece, Berry. And it’s not a big hog like your pa’s. It’s almost a bicycle with a motor.”
“That’s all true,” said Allison. “It’s economical and saves time and gas.”
“I’ll ride to work and never long distances.”
“It makes me awful uneasy.”
“At first.” She put her arm around Berry. “You’ll see, I’ll always come home.”
Berry tried to breathe away her scare. Jaudon wasn’t her mother or father. Motorcycles did not equate to abandonment.
For years, Berry had watched Jaudon fall for big band love songs and new Beverage Bay equipment and for Berry herself. She saw that smiling-eyed longing again and, as always, could not bring herself to deny her. She contemplated the single seat on the bike. At least there was no question of riding along. “What will you take for it, Allison?” she asked.
Allison smoothed her hair the way she did when she acted as mediator for her squabbling group. She named a
very low price, but of course the bike was antiquated.
“We can afford that, Jaudon.”
“I promise I’ll be extra careful, Berry. I bet I can learn to keep it in good repair too. Cousin Cal will give me lessons—after he finishes laughing at it.”
Berry suggested Allison stay with them again since she’d sold her transportation. “I’ll carry you where you need to be in the van until you buy a car, Allison. I can tell my honey isn’t going to share her new toy.”
“Fantastic,” said Allison. “I can’t wait to start making a crater in the consciousness of the women around here who think they’re fine as is.”
Jaudon took the bike to the tax office to register it. She rehabbed her little beauty after work and every day off under the instruction of Cousin Cal. That made it possible to avoid Berry’s hurried meetings with her cohorts, the ringing phone, and drop-ins from their expanding contacts with other small groups around the region. Allison’s arrival seemed to juice up the whole gang of women. Jaudon, when home, was distracted and nervous, worried about the phone’s multiple-party line; she didn’t want anyone listening in on the plans of these contrary women.
Berry was stressed enough without Jaudon picking fights.
“Why are you arguing with everything I say?” she asked Jaudon a few days before the demonstration. They were cleaning up after dinner.
“Me? That’s what you’re doing.”
“See, you can’t answer a question without turning it into a world war.”
“It’s that darn Allison,” Jaudon said, scrubbing the iron skillet so hard sweat was stinging her eyes. “There is no way to ignore her, as much as I want to concentrate on you and on the store. What got into you, inviting her to stay in Gran’s trailer again? Hasn’t she brought us enough trouble?”
“You know it’s only until she and Cullie work things out. That ought to take about three minutes.”
Jaudon saw Berry’s dander was up. She joked. “I think the first step may take three minutes. After that, close your eyes.”
