“Hey,” he protested when she found the keys and removed her hand.
“Sorry,” she said, her tone contrary to the word as she looked for the ignition key.
“How about a blow job?”
Sara laughed as she found the clunky key. “You’re the one who’s drunk, remember? Not me.” She cranked the engine, relieved when it caught on the first try. “Put on your seatbelt.”
“There aren’t any seatbelts,” he said, sliding closer to her.
Sara engaged the clutch and put the truck into reverse. Jeffrey had positioned himself so that he was straddling the shift. She asked, “How much have you had to drink?”
“Too much,” he admitted, rubbing his eyes.
The sign on top of the building lit up the cab as she backed up, and Sara saw at least eight empty beer bottles rolling around on the floorboard. Jeffrey was wearing black boots she hadn’t seen before, and one of the legs of his jeans was pulled up, showing his hairy calf.
She waited until they were on the highway to ask, “When did they arrest Robert?”
“A little while after I left you,” he said, his head bumping back against the glass. “He wanted me to come see him. I was just glad he was talking to me.”
He went quiet, and she prompted, “What did he say?”
“That he did it,” Jeffrey said, throwing his hand into the air as if in resignation. “I was standing right there in their goddamn stupid front parlor and he looked me in the eye and said he did it.”
Sara was having a hard time following him, but she said, “I’m sorry.”
“Came back from the store and just shot him. No questions asked.”
Sara could only repeat, “I’m sorry.”
“You were right.”
“I didn’t want to be.”
“Is that true?”
She chanced a look at him. He seemed to be getting back to himself, but his breath was enough to make her turn her head back toward the road. “Of course it’s true.” She put her hand on his leg. “I’m sorry it happened this way. I know you did everything you could.”
“You won’t believe me,” he said. “I know you said Robert was lying before, and I said you were wrong, but now I think you’re right. I mean—I think he’s lying now.”
Sara stared at the road ahead.
“You’re thinking it’s because he’s my friend, but it’s not. I know it adds up. I know his story makes sense, but he’s a cop. He’s had time to think about it and get it right so that it all matches up.” He tapped his finger to his head, missing a few times. “I know it here. I’ve been a cop too long to not know when people are lying.”
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” she told him, knowing this was useless.
He rested his head on her shoulder. “I love you, Sara.”
She had ignored him the first time, but now she felt the need to comment. “You’ve just had too much to drink.”
“No,” he disagreed, his breath hot on her neck. “You don’t know how it is.”
She squeezed his leg before shifting into fourth. “Try to sleep.”
“I don’t want to sleep,” he said. “I want to talk to you.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow.” She slowed at an intersection, trying to remember which way to turn. A billboard pointing to a bank looked familiar, and she took a left.
She asked, “Is this the right way?”
“People only say what they mean when they’re drunk,” he told her. “I mean, being drunk doesn’t make you say things you don’t mean.”
“I don’t know about that,” she said, glad to recognize a gas station from this morning. The store was dark and, like everything else in town, had probably closed hours ago.
“I love you.”
Sara laughed because that was all she could do.
“Turn here,” he said. When she didn’t turn quickly enough, he grabbed the steering wheel.
“Jeffrey!” she said, her heart jumping into her throat. He had turned them onto a gravel road.
“Just keep going straight,” he told her, pointing ahead.
Sara slowed the truck. “Where are we?”
“Just a little farther.”
She leaned closer to the steering wheel, trying to make out the road ahead of her. When she saw a fallen tree in the distance, she stopped. “The road’s blocked.”
“Little more,” he said.
Sara put the truck in neutral and stepped on the parking brake before turning to him. “Jeffrey, it’s late, and I’m tired, and you’re dru—”
He kissed her, but not the way she was used to. He was rushed and sloppy, his hands clumsy on the buttons of her jeans.
“Hold on—”
“I want you so much.”
She could tell, he was like a piece of steel against her thigh, but even though Sara could feel her body reacting to his, sex was the last thing on her mind.
“Sara,” he sighed, and kissed her so deeply that she could not breathe.
She managed to soften the kiss, and when his lips moved to her neck, she said, “Slow down.”
“I want to be inside you,” he said. “I want it like last night.”
“We’re parked in the middle of nowhere.”
“Let’s pretend,” he said. “Let’s pretend we’re at the beach.” He scooped his hands under her bottom and she gave what could only be called a yelp as she suddenly went horizontal, her feet splayed out against one door and her head bumped into the other. Sara had not been flat on her back in a parked truck since the tenth grade.
Jeffrey tried to move down on her, but considering they were both two grown adults of above average height stuck in a space that was barely five feet long, his attempt was far from successful.
“Sweetheart,” she said, trying to reason with him. She forced his head up to look at her, surprised to see the raw need in his eyes.
“I love you,” he said, leaning up to kiss her again.
Sara returned the kiss, trying again to slow him down. He took the hint, and his kiss was not as probing. When he came up for breath, he moaned, “I love you.”
“I know,” she said, stroking the back of his neck.
He looked up at her again, and she watched as his eyes seemed to focus on her for the first time since she had walked out of the funeral home. He looked forlorn, like the world had abandoned him and Sara was his only hope. “Is this okay?”
She nodded, not knowing what else to say.
He repeated, “Is it okay?”
“Yes,” she said, helping him slide down her jeans.
Even though her body was ready for him, Sara braced herself when Jeffrey entered her. She put her hand behind her, trying to keep her head from bumping into the armrest as he moved inside of her. Overhead, she could see an index card tucked into the sun visor. A woman’s hand had hastily scribbled a grocery list on the card, and Sara read the items silently to herself between thrusts. Eggs…milk…juice…toilet paper…
She turned slightly, trying to keep the gearshift from stabbing her thigh. That was all Jeffrey needed to finish the job, and he collapsed like dead weight on top of her.
Sara dropped her hand to her forehead, wondering how she had gotten herself into this. She said, “Well, that was romantic.”
Jeffrey did not respond, and when she put her hand on his back he turned his head and let out a heavy breath.
He was asleep.
Sara woke up with a pounding headache that started at the back of her neck and worked up her head like a vise. She could not begin to imagine what Jeffrey felt like this morning, but part of her hoped he was in agony. God knew that she’d had some bad sex in her life, but last night ranked right at the top of what was, thankfully, a rather short list.
She felt for her shoes as she rose from the couch, wondering what time it was. Sunlight was streaming in through the windows and Sara guessed it was almost ten. The clock told another story: it was nearly noon.
“Crap,” Sara mumbled, stretching her arms
up to the ceiling. Her back felt as if all the muscles were knotted into bows, and her spine probably resembled a hook from the way she had slept on the couch.
She continued to stretch her back and shoulders as she walked through the house, looking for Nell. The kitchen was empty, pots and pans drying in the sink. She looked outside and saw Nell standing in the neighbor’s yard with an ax raised over her head. As Sara watched, Nell brought down the ax on the chain that staked the dogs to a tree.
“What was that?” a voice behind Sara asked. She spun around and saw a young, dark-haired boy standing in the doorway. He was dressed in shorts with no shirt, his skinny chest concave in the center.
“Jared?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, looking around the room. “Where’s my mama?”
“She’s outside,” Sara told him, wondering if Nell would want her son to know what she was up to. Truth be told, Sara was a little curious herself.
Jared walked to the back door, his sneakers shuffling across the floor. Sara was more than familiar with this curious phenomenon that plagued young boys—most of them did not learn to pick up their feet when they walked until they reached their twenties.
Sara trailed him outside, keeping well back to avoid the dust his shoes were stirring up. He reminded her of Pigpen in the Peanuts comics.
Nell was on the back porch at the neighbor’s, putting leashes on the dogs. She saw Jared and said, “What are you doing out of bed?”
“I’m bored.”
“You should’ve thought about that before you said you were too sick to go to day camp.” Nell smiled at Sara. “Did you introduce yourself to Dr. Linton?”
“Doctor?” he asked, a hint of fear in his voice.
Nell said, “You best get back in that bed before I make her take your temperature.”
There was something so familiar about his reaction—the set to his mouth, the annoyance that flashed in his eyes—that Sara caught herself staring at the boy, her mouth open.
“What?” Jared asked, giving her another familiar look.
Sara shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. His resemblance to Jeffrey was startling.
Nell saw the look on her face, and shooed Jared away. “Go on, now. Take Mama’s ax.”
He shuffled back to the house, dragging the ax behind him, and Sara pressed her lips together, biting back the obvious question.
Nell clicked her tongue and tugged on the leashes. The dogs stood at attention. “You look like you’ve got something to say.”
“It’s none of my business.”
“That’s never stopped me.” Nell led the dogs around to the front of the house as she told Sara, “Jeffrey doesn’t know.”
Sara nodded, acknowledging that she had heard her but still not trusting herself to comment.
At the front of the neighbor’s house, Nell sat on the porch with a sigh. “Possum and I got married a few weeks after Jeffrey moved away to Auburn.”
“You didn’t tell him?”
“So he’d come back and marry me?” she asked, petting one of the dogs. “Not much point in that; we would’ve both killed each other the first week. I got on his nerves because I was always telling him he was wrong, and he got on mine because he wouldn’t admit that I was right.”
Sara could only stare.
“He would’ve done the right thing,” Nell said. “And I didn’t want anybody to marry me because it was the right thing.” The dog rolled on its back, and Nell scratched his stomach. “I love Possum. I liked him at first, but then he stepped in when Jeffrey was gone and we had Jared and Jen came later—not much later.” She gave a private smile. “But we have a family now, a life together. Possum is a good man. He works less than five minutes away and he still calls if he’s gonna be late. He doesn’t mind picking up Motrin or tampons for me at the Piggly Wiggly and he’s never said anything makes me look fat, even when I wore overalls for three years straight after I had Jen. I know where he is every second of the day, and I know if I fart in church he’s gonna take the rap.” She gave Sara a pointed look. “I like my life exactly how it is.”
“You don’t think Jeffrey has a right to know?”
“To what end?” she asked, and she had a point. “Possum’s Jared’s father. He changed that boy’s diapers and walked the floor with him while I was passed out from exhaustion. He signs his report cards and coaches the Little League. There’s nothing either of them wants for, and no reason to rock the boat.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“I won’t tell him,” she said, wondering how she could keep such a secret.
“It’s not good for Jeffrey being back here right now,” Nell said. “God knows I was mad at him for staying away so long, but there’s too much history here. Too much has happened.” She slipped off her flip-flop and scratched the other dog with her toes. “Jeffrey’s turned out all right. He really has. There’s something about him inside that’s good, just like with Possum, only you have to scratch the surface to get to it. I don’t know what you’d call it, but he’s grown into the person I always thought he could be if he just got away from…” She indicated the street. “From this place where everybody thinks they know your story and they don’t give a never-you-mind about filling everybody else in on what they think about it.”
“Reggie Ray gave me an earful.”
“Don’t listen to that old redneck,” she chastised. “He’s the worst of the lot. Keeps saying he was born again. He needs a couple of more rebirths before he turns into a decent human being.”
“He seemed all right.”
“Then you weren’t looking close enough,” Nell said, an edge of warning to her tone. “There’s two things you need to know about this town, Sara: the Rays think their shit don’t stink and the Kendalls are pure white trash.” She indicated her own front yard. “Not that I can say much with all that crap Possum put in the yard, but at least my kids show up to school in clean clothes.”
“Who are the Kendalls?”
“They run the fruit stand outside of town,” she said. “Mean bastards, every one of them.” She added, “Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with being poor—me and Possum’s brought it to an art form—but that doesn’t mean you can send your kids out with dirt on their faces and muck under their fingernails. You see them at the store and you have to hold your breath, they’re so filthy.” Nell paused, shaking her head in disapproval. “A few years ago, one of them showed up to school with lice. Infected the entire ninth grade.”
“Has anyone called children’s services?”
Nell snorted. “Hoss has been trying to run the whole family out of town for years. The old man was horrible. Beat his wife, beat his kids, beat his dogs. Best thing he ever did was drop dead of a heart attack mowing the grass back behind the seed store.” She shook her head again. “Still left his wife with one in the oven, and that one’s the worst of all. Thank God he’s not in Jared’s grade. He gets thrown out of school every other day for fighting or stealing or God knows what. Punched a girl last week. Little bastard’s just like his father.”
Sara said, “Sounds horrible,” but still, she could not help but feel sorry for the child. She often wondered if kids like that could straighten themselves out with the right parent around. She had never completely bought the “bad seed” theory, though Nell’s appraisal that the apple had not fallen far from the tree was probably shared by everyone in town.
Nell changed the subject, saying, “Y’all got in late last night.”
“I hope we didn’t wake you up.”
“I was already up with Possum,” she said. “Fool man slammed his chin against the counter at work. Don’t ask me how he did it, but it gave him a toothache all night long. Tossing and turning till I about strangled him.”
A car with a woman and a young boy coasted by the house, the woman holding a sheet of paper in her hands like she was trying to read directions.
Sara said, “Jeffrey had a little too m
uch to drink.”
Nell’s surprise was obvious. “I’ve never seen him drink much.”
“I don’t think it’s a habit.”
Nell studied her, like she was trying to figure Sara out. “Was it about Julia?”
“Who’s Julia?”
Nell looked out into the street, where the car that had coasted by earlier had backed up and was parking in front of the driveway.
“Who’s Julia?” Sara repeated. “Nell?”
Nell stood up. “You need to talk to Jeffrey about that.”
“About what?”
She waved to the woman getting out of the car, saying, “You found it.”
The woman smiled as her son ran up to the dogs and threw his arms around them. “They look just like the pictures.”
“This one’s Henry,” Nell said, indicating one of the dogs. “This is Lucinda. Truth be told, she only comes to Lucy.” She held out the leashes to the boy, who gladly took hold.
The woman opened her mouth, looking like she was about to protest, but Nell reached into her pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. “This should cover the cost for having them fixed. My husband and I never got around to it.”
“Thank you,” the woman said, the cash obviously helping to make up her mind. “Is there any particular food they like?”
“Anything,” Nell said. “They just love to eat and they love kids.”
The boy said, “They’re great!” with that enthusiastic tone children use when they’re trying to convince their parents they will become future astronauts or presidents if only they get the thing they are asking for.
“Anyway.” Nell looked at Sara then back to the woman. “I should be going. We’ve got to finish packing up the house. Movers will be here at two.”
The woman smiled. “It’s a shame you can’t keep them in the city.”
“Landlord won’t allow it,” Nell told her, holding out her hand. “Thank you kindly.”
“Thank you,” the woman said, shaking her hand. She shook Sara’s, too, then told the child, “Honey, say ‘Thank you.’ ”
The boy mumbled a “Thank you,” but his attention was squarely set on the dogs. Sara watched them bound toward the car, the boy jogging to keep up with the rambunctious animals.
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