So she decided to lead with that. “I discovered another miracle.”
Destinee almost spit out the sip of water she’d just taken, but she managed to swallow it down quickly before croaking out, “No shit! How’d that happen?”
Jess made the mistake of glancing at Chris, whose clenched jaw indicated he clearly thought honesty was not going to be the best policy, but she continued anyway. Her mom wasn’t exactly a law-abiding citizen and, given the circumstance, they could use another ally in this whole mess. “Well, so, we were leaving the party, and we came to this stop sign. Chris did everything right. He stopped, looked, then went forward. But another car didn’t have its lights on and came barreling through and it clipped the front of Chris’s truck—”
“Everyone all right?” Destinee interrupted.
“Ehh … more or less,” Jessica hedged.
Destinee narrowed her eyes. “More or less?” she echoed suspiciously.
Jessica took a deep breath. Time to rip off the Band-Aid. “It was Mrs. Wurst. She died.”
Destinee blinked quickly three times, but otherwise showed no signs of having heard. Then slowly. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”
“I brought her back to life, though,” Jess added, realizing as she said it how little it actually helped the gravity of the situation.
Destinee blinked again. “I’m not sure how I feel about that, either.” Then it apparently sank in, and her glazed over expression sharpened. “Wait. You brought her back from the dead? That’s your miracle?”
Jessica nodded.
“Well hot damn, baby!” But while her voice sounded celebratory, her face was still squished up toward the center, her nose crinkled, eyebrows pinched together. “So then what happened?”
“Well …” Jess looked at Chris, and when she caught his eye, he chuckled. Then the chuckle turned into a cackle.
Okay, so Chris was going through some stuff.
Jess pushed forward. “We got in the truck and drove off.”
Destinee slowly pulled her gaze from Chris’s minor breakdown to refocus on her daughter. “That’s a hit and run.”
“Right.”
“That’s illegal.”
“I know.”
Still leaning against the counter, Destinee covered her mouth with her fingers and stared at the linoleum kitchen floor while she considered it. “But it was probably a good call.”
“That’s what we thought.”
Destinee turned, grabbed the coffee pot and began filling it with tap water from the sink. “Well, this sure is something.”
Chris’s laughter subsided, but not before tears streamed down his face.
All in all, his had been a pretty seamless mental breakdown. Quick, harmless. And he had a good laugh. It couldn’t have been that bad.
As the coffee began brewing, the familiar bubbling and bitter aroma filling the kitchen, Destinee took a seat at the table between Chris and Jessica. “What’d you do with the truck?”
“Hid it,” Jessica said. “In a couple days Chris is going to report that he hit a deer.”
“What kind of damage was there?”
Chris was the one to answer now. “Took out the front light, scratched up the deer guard, took out the power steering.”
Destinee frowned and shook her head. “Deer couldn’t have done that to your truck. Better say it was a hog.”
It was no small comfort to Jess that her mother was now officially a co-conspirator.
“And you said she saw you before you ran off?”
Jessica nodded, and her mom had to think hard about that. “Well, maybe she was fucked up and didn’t recognize you.”
“Maybe,” Jess said hesitantly, “but she did call me by my name. Like a dozen times.”
“Well, balls! Then I suspect the chief’ll be after you.” She glanced at the clock again. “How long ago was it?”
It felt like two weeks, but Jess knew that couldn’t be right. Chris answered for her. “About four hours ago. Quentin called 9-1-1, so they should’ve found her by now.”
“Quentin?” she asked, looking at Jessica. “Your ex?”
“Fake ex,” Chris corrected. “And yeah. He and Miranda were in the back seat. She didn’t see them, though, and they promised not to say anything.”
Destinee looked doubtfully at her daughter. “Miranda promised … ?”
Jess nodded. “I know, I know. But there’s nothing we can do about that. I know she’ll try not to let it slip.”
“I’ve no doubt about that,” Destinee said. “Never seen someone try so hard to be a good friend. But, you know how she is.” Destinee paused, narrowed her eyes at something on the wall opposite her, and rubbed her chin. “You know, if this happened four hours ago, and no one’s come knocking on our front door looking for you, there’s a chance that Ruth doesn’t remember who it was.”
“Or she re-died,” Chris added, unhelpfully.
“Or,” Jess said, glaring at him, “she remembered that we know about her affair with Jimmy.”
It’d been the kernel of hope she’d latched onto during the long, silent ride between Miranda’s house and her own. She’d even asked God about it to make sure she had the fail-safe.
Are Mrs. Wurst and Jimmy still knocking boots?
OH YEAH. KNOCKING BOOTS, BUMPING UGLIES, FLOGGING … WELL, JUST FLOGGING.
So maybe that was why the whole of the Mooretown police wasn’t beating down her door.
But Destinee waved her off. “Nah, I think we’ve used that one up. We can’t just keep knocking Ruth around and hoping she stays quiet because she don’t want her husband to find out about her nasty-ass affair.”
“Who’s having a nasty-ass affair?” came another voice from the hallway.
This time Jessica almost jumped up to the ceiling before she laid eyes on Coach Rex.
He was fully clothed, like maybe they’d think he’d simply crashed on Destinee’s bedroom floor, rather than the obvious reality. Jess struggled to hide her disgust.
“Ruth Wurst and Jimmy Dean,” Destinee said casually.
“I could see it,” he said before clearing gunk from his throat and heading directly to where the coffeemaker was finishing up. He grabbed four mugs from the cabinet and then filled them and served them black to everyone at the table, taking his own with him over to the empty seat.
“So here’s the plan,” Destinee said, “and you can fill Quentin and Miranda in on it. We’re going to do nothing. You’re going to lay low for a couple days, then Chris, you’re going to report that you hit a hog. Then that’s it. No one says a thing.”
Coach Rex chuckled. “Goddamn, Destinee. I’m not sure what you three were talking about before I came in here, but it almost sounds like you’re trying to cover up a murder or something.” He chuckled again and waited for the others to join in.
But for obvious reasons they didn’t.
His smile faded. “Do I even want to know?”
The three of them shook their heads and responded with various forms of hell no.
“Right.” Rex stood and grabbed his coffee. “I think I’m just gonna take this to go then.” He nodded gravely and then left the kitchen.
When Jessica heard the front door close, a thought manifested in her mind that never in a million years would she have expected to possess: What I wouldn’t trade to be Coach Rex today.
Hiding out was not how Jessica had wanted to spend her first week of summer, but then again, nothing ever went as she thought it would, so there was that.
Destinee’s plan, though, had gone off without a hitch. Chris had reported that he hit a hog (his mother was only slightly suspicious about the fact that his truck hadn’t been at home for a few days then suddenly he was in a collision), and not a single law enforcement officer had even so much as driven past the McCloud home.
Maybe things would blow over after all.
Jessica pulled the bag of popcorn from the microwave and poured it into a large bowl before bringing it into
the living room where her mother was already waiting on the couch with the TV set to the six o’clock news. Her nerves had been in knots since she’d heard about the press conference earlier that morning, and the day had been an exercise in futility as she turned on some oldie-but-goodie nature shows to avoid guessing what in her Father’s name Jimmy could be about to say in another damn press conference.
But not even watching predators of Southeast Asia could soothe her anxiety, so when Destinee suggested they make popcorn, drink a beer, and watch the spectacle unfold, Jess decided to just go with it. Besides, her mother was on a roll with plans.
Jessica set the bowl on the couch between them and Destinee handed her a Shiner Bock. “You heard from Maria Flores lately?” she asked.
She had to think about it. “No, not really since the last championship game. Why?”
Destinee shrugged. “Just got this feeling we might need to give her a call soon, is all.”
Jess felt a buzzing against her left butt cheek and leaned to the side to pull her phone from her pocket. She had a message from Chris: Are you watching this? You think it’s something political?
She texted back: No idea. This is Jimmy we’re talking about. It could be anything.
She set the phone on the couch cushion next to her when suddenly her skull was bombarded for the first time since the accident.
IT’S ALWAYS SOMETHING WITH JIMMY DEAN.
Where have you been?
TURKEY.
Oh. Is that in Asia?
SORT OF. IT’S ASIAN ENOUGH.
What’s happening over there?
MORE LIKE WHAT ISN’T HAPPENING OVER THERE. SHEESH.
What’s Jimmy got up his sleeve here?
YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW?
I thought so, but when you say it like that …
I’LL TELL YOU IF YOU WANT. YOU KNOW I LOVE A GOOD SPOILER.
Will me knowing change anything?
NOPE.
Then tell me.
RUTH WURST.
“Shitballs.”
Destinee’s head whipped toward her daughter. “What’s shitballs, baby?”
But the news anchors had already sent it out to their correspondent on location, and Destinee’s attention flickered back and forth between Jess and the television.
“Just watch,” she told her mother dejectedly. “You’ll see what’s shitballs.”
Destinee’s expression darkened. “Were you just talking with your Father?”
Jessica nodded.
“You do me a favor and ask him to stay the hell outta my relationship with Rex? That shit God pulled last night was not okay.”
“What shit God pulled—” She cut herself off. First and foremost, she didn’t actually want to know how her Father was interfering with Destinee and Rex’s sex life. But also, Jimmy approached the microphone to speak.
The media was staged in the parking lot of White Light Church, which was no surprise. Jimmy had home field advantage there. And it probably didn’t hurt that the magnificent arch and statue of him was in frame just above his right shoulder.
“Thank you all for coming,” he said, flashing the handsome smile that Jess used to like (and wished she still could). “I want to be clear. I’m here today not as the future mayor of Midland—although I do encourage you to check out my campaign website—but as a humble servant to all the parishioners of White Light Church.
“Last week, one of my most loyal followers was involved in a tragic accident. She’s been with the church since it first opened, over a decade ago.”
“Fuck me,” Destinee breathed. “God dammit. Where’s he going with this?”
Jessica shook her head vaguely.
“There are few things in this world that seem magical anymore,” Jimmy continued. “As filthy animals, each of us learns to explain away all that magic, all of God’s tiny miracles. But today, folks, I come with good news for those of you who don’t believe, who ask why we don’t see miracles today if God and His only son were able to create them before.” He paused, allowing his words to sink in. “And some of you may be saying, ‘Nah, Reverend Dean, we’ve seen a miracle! We’ve witnessed Jessica McCloud kicking an eighty-yard field goal!’” He chuckled at his exaggerated impression then grinned again. “Right. Sure. The great Lord on high has decided to show Himself through football. Now don’t get me wrong, I love football, but that …” He shook his head quickly. “No, sorry, I don’t buy it. No, the Lord Almighty performs real miracles, and only for those whom He has chosen. And that’s why I’m here today, to present one of those miracles to you in the form of White Light Church’s very own Ruth Wurst.” He led off the clapping, and overwhelming applause poured from Jessica’s television.
“Jesus,” her mother said. “There must be all of White Light standing behind the cameras.”
Ruth Wurst climbed the three stairs leading onto the small makeshift dais. She smiled and waved enthusiastically, clearly comfortable with her moment in the spotlight. The police chief of Mooretown, Mr. Wurst, followed a few paces behind her. He looked much less enthusiastic about the fanfare, but maybe he was just concerned about his wife.
Mrs. Wurst embraced Jimmy with a hug that lasted just a shade too long and included perhaps an unnecessary amount of body-to-body contact, and Jess swore she saw Chief Wurst’s lips tighten as he watched.
Then Mrs. Wurst approached the microphone and Jimmy took a place by her side and a step back, so that real-life Jimmy hovered over one of her shoulders while statue Jimmy hovered over the other. Chief Wurst remained in frame, hovering farther behind his wife, just to the side of statue Jimmy.
“Thank you,” Ruth said, smiling and breathing in deeply, her large bosom heaving. “As the great Reverend Dean just said, real miracles are hard to come by nowadays, but I believe that I’ve experienced one. You see, last Saturday night, I was on my way back to Mooretown from Midland, where I’d”—she paused for just a millisecond as her eyes flickered down to the podium then back up toward the cameras—“stayed late at White Light Church helping Reverend Dean prepare the troughs for the next day’s sacraments. I’d just stopped at a stop sign outside of town, checked both directions, and then proceeded forward when a truck came out of nowhere and T-boned me. The last thing I remember clearly was my head hitting the windshield of my car, and then … well, it sounds incredible to say, but I died.”
She paused just long enough to allow the crowd to gasp and murmur without letting it get out of control. She’d either been coached by the best or this was apparently a role she was born to play.
“I remember seeing a light and hearing God’s voice calling me to him. ‘Ruth,’ He said, ‘I’ve been waiting to welcome you home.’ I headed toward that voice, and I just remember the light growing brighter, and my skin started to tingle, almost burning, like I was being purified by His heavenly disdain for my animal instincts and my filth.”
Was Mrs. Wurst on the way to heaven?
NO. THE JOURNEY TO HEAVEN IS TOTALLY DIFFERENT. LESS TINGLING, MORE CONFETTI.
So that wasn’t you calling to her?
HELL NO.
So if I’d just let her die, she would have gone to …
HELL, YES.
Jessica wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She decided to see how this situation with Ruth played out before she made up her mind.
“But it wasn’t my time,” Mrs. Wurst began again. “God made that clear when He brought me back. I remember a force flowing through me, like a magnetic pull, drawing me back. And then I opened my eyes … And that’s all I remember.”
Jimmy hip checked her away from the mic to take over. “The poor woman was so torn up, she didn’t even remember who it was that brought her back. But I do. Because it was I who held her crumpled body in my arms and let the good Lord work through me.” He held up his hands to calm all the questions that began to rupture from the lips of the reporters.
“It will all become clear to you if you let me explain…
“Ruth had le
ft her bible at the church by accident, and I knew for a fact that she couldn’t fall asleep at night without reading her passages and making notes, because that’s just the kind of dedicated, unwavering Christian woman that she is. So I headed to Mooretown to drop it off for her so that she could rest well and worship the Lord with all her strength the next day. That’s when I saw her car on the side of the road and knew something terrible had happened. The truck that hit her was nowhere to be found, and Mrs. Wurst lay motionless in the brush. I cried out to God”—he cried out the words to, presumably, God, but actually just the media—“to save this beautiful and holy woman who had dedicated her life to serving Him, and He heard my prayers.” He paused solemnly, letting the emotion of the story hang in a pregnant silence. “I don’t know why God chose me to perform His mission, but He did. He most definitely did.”
During Jimmy’s skewed retelling of events, Jess had kept her attention on Ruth Wurst’s face, searching for signs of dissonance. The woman’s eyes crossed almost unnoticeably, and Jess figured Jimmy was creating such a fine spectacle that there was a good chance no one but Jess would have noticed the woman’s reaction. When he’d mentioned God choosing him, Ruth’s upper lip had even twitched, like some mental glitch had occurred in her brain that perhaps even she wasn’t aware of. Did she remember Jessica being there? Or did she just not remember Jimmy?
“And so,” Jimmy continued, “I intend to mete out His justice by bringing whoever committed this horrible hit and run … to justice. I will not sleep until that person is rotting in a jail cell, sodomized by his or her swinelike equals.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Jimmy,” Destinee muttered around a mouthful of popcorn.
“With the help of Mooretown’s police chief, Mr. Wurst, who also happens to be a devout member of White Light, each of you watching this, and, of course, the man upstairs, I believe we can find justice for Mrs. Ruth and her family in their difficult time. Chief Wurst will personally oversee this investigation, so please direct any tips to the Mooretown Police Department.
It's a Miracle! Page 4
