by Sharon Sala
“That’s the process,” Lon said.
Cora reached for the water and took a few more sips, then surprised Lon by chugging the rest down like a shot of whiskey.
“Now, my last question. Am I allowed to see them?”
“Yes, ma’am. I can take you back.”
“Will you stay there while I’m talking to them?”
“I can give you a bit of privacy if—”
“No! You misunderstand. I’m asking you to stay.”
“Then I will,” Lon said.
“Good. I have a few things to say to them, and I want a witness.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lon said, and got up. When he offered his arm, she clutched it like a lifeline as he walked her back to the jail.
Cora’s nose wrinkled as they entered. The scent of disinfectant wasn’t quite strong enough to mask the old mattresses and open toilets in the cells. She turned loose of the chief, lifted her chin, and strode past the empty cells to the prisoners occupying the last two.
It was the sharp, staccato sound of the little square heels on her sensible shoes that got the two inmates’ attention.
Cora saw Junior duck his head, obviously ashamed to be seen in such a state.
But Judson’s reaction was just the opposite. He stood up, his hands curled into fists.
“It’s about damn time!” Jud shouted.
Cora gasped, as if he had suddenly revealed himself as the monster he was.
“Don’t raise your voice to me!” she snapped. “I saw Bowie James today. I know now that Randall lied to me. Mel and Emmitt lied to me. And you lied to me! I am struggling to understand how you thought any part of beating a kid to within an inch of his life absolved your son’s guilt.”
Jud moved to the front of the cell and grabbed onto the bars. “I never did any—”
“Shut up!” Cora said. “You did, and you know it. That man is as much my grandson as the little hoodlum in the cell beside you. Today, I told Bowie James no one from this family will be bothering him again.”
Jud’s face turned a dark, angry red. “You don’t speak for—”
The urge to back up from him was strong, but her anger was stronger.
“I won’t say this again, so listen closely…both of you. You cause that man even one more minute of grief, and none of you will ever be welcome in my house again.”
“It’s our house,” Jud said.
“No! It’s mine! Daddy willed it to me. My name, and my name only, is on the deed. I’m not afraid to be an old divorcée, and I’ll be fine giving up my place in this world as wife, mother, and grandmother to every Boone within a hundred-mile radius just to be rid of this shame.”
Cora watched the blood draining from her husband’s face, and for a few moments, she thought he was going to pass out.
“Cora. Don’t do this,” Jud said.
“I’m not through talking. I heard the stories of why you are here. You made a pure ass of yourself at Granny’s. You threatened Bowie’s life this morning. He’s our grandson, and you are an abomination in the eyes of God. When I found out that you even threatened the wife of the chief of police, I knew you’d lost your mind.”
Lon reeled as if he’d been punched and then walked all the way up to the cell.“You threatened my wife?”
Jud groaned. “I was just mad. I didn’t mean it.”
Lon took a deep breath. “You actually threatened her life?”
“I popped off,” Jud said. “I’m sorry.”
“Then let me add a bit of advice to your wife’s warning. You don’t want to do that again. There are serious consequences to messing with my wife in any way, shape, or form. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Jud’s head was bobbing up and down like a bobblehead doll riding shotgun in a demolition derby.
“I swear, I would never hurt your wife.”
“Don’t take his word for anything,” Cora said. “Our whole marriage is a lie.” She shifted her focus back to Jud. “I’ll make sure the money is there to bail you both out of jail, but I will never forgive you for what you’ve done.” She turned her back on the cells. “Chief, thank you for your time. I’d like to leave now.”
Lon pointed a finger at Jud, then escorted Cora out of the jail, letting the door slam shut on his way out.
Chapter 5
Court began at 2:00 p.m.
Cora was in the courtroom with her purse clutched to her chest, a shield against the curious looks she was getting from everyone in the courtroom.
They called her grandson first and led him up to the judge in handcuffs. Her son, Emmitt, was sitting in front of her, and she could tell by the red flush spreading up the back of his neck that he was scared.
Emmitt, Jr. was shaking as he stood before the judge, listening to the charges against him. When he pled guilty, his bail was set at a thousand dollars.
The tic in her right eye was the only sign of Cora’s emotions as they led him away.
The court clerk read the next name aloud. “The court calls Judson Boone to the stand.”
Cora didn’t even flinch as she watched her husband led up in handcuffs. The judge read off the offenses. Disturbing the peace, and two charges of harassment. He pled guilty, and bail was set at five hundred dollars. They led him out as well.
She had heard enough. Now she knew how much money to draw from their bank account, so she left the courtroom. She’d bail them out, and then she was done.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Junior was released on bail into the custody of his parents. It was a silent reunion and an equally silent exit as they left the station.
Mel was in the lobby, waiting to get his daddy and take him back to Granny’s to get his car.
When Jud came out and saw his son instead of his wife, he frowned. “Where’s your mother?”
“I don’t know, Daddy. She put up the bail money and left. I’m taking you to get your car.”
Jud retrieved his personal belongings and left the police station, leaving Mel to follow. The ride to Granny’s was equally silent, and he got out without thanking his son, got in his car, and headed home. He had a world of talking to do to get off of Cora’s hit list.
But when he drove into the yard, there were three suitcases sitting on the porch, along with his three hunting rifles, all of his hunting gear, and a large box.
Jud’s gut knotted. She was serious.
He got out of the car with bravado he didn’t feel and stomped up on the porch. He glanced down into the box, saw all of his shaving gear and the bottles of medicine he took, and grabbed the doorknob, only to find the door was locked.
He used his key, only to realize she had the chain on the door, too.
He began pounding on the door, shouting, “Cora May, open the damn door.”
“No!” she shouted. “You get your stuff off my porch, and get off my property and out of my life. You will be hearing from my lawyer.”
A shiver of fear ran up his back. This couldn’t be happening.
“You don’t have a lawyer,” he yelled.
“I do now. Peanut Butterman is representing me.”
He tried whining. “But Cora, honey! All these years of marriage? You’re just gonna throw them away like they never mattered?”
“You threw our grandson away, and he mattered. You did it. Not me. You broke my heart, Jud Boone. I don’t know you anymore. You turned into a monster…or maybe you were always a monster, and I just didn’t know. Stay away from me. I don’t ever want to look at your face again.”
Jud flinched. Rage rose in him like a fire in his belly, and before he thought about what he was doing, he kicked in the door.
Cora was standing in the middle of the room, and it was obvious she’d been crying. Her eyes were puffy, and her face was blotchy red. She gasped when the chain broke, a
nd then they were staring, face-to-face.
“What are you going to do? Beat me like you beat Randall’s son? If you do, everyone will know it was you. That’s why I talked to you in front of Chief Pittman. If you mess with Bowie and his family, or if you hurt me, you will be right back in jail. And if you’re going to hurt me, then just finish the job and kill me, because I will not live one more hour under the same roof with you.”
Jud was in shock. The sight of the fear on her face was enough to put him on his knees.
“I would never hurt you, honey. I swear.”
“But you did, Jud. You broke something between us that will never be fixed. I won’t love a man I can’t trust. Either get out, or put an end to me now.”
Jud kept shaking his head. “I can’t believe you think I would do you physical harm. I have never raised a hand to you in my life.”
“There are far worse pains than a physical blow. I’ll say this one last time. Get. Out. Of. My. House.”
Jud turned and lurched back out over the threshold. He heard the door lock behind him and then began carrying the suitcases to his car. It took several trips to get all of them in the car.
He drove all the way to Savannah, bought a fifth of whiskey, then headed to a motel to spend the night. He couldn’t face his sons and admit Cora had kicked him out, and he didn’t want anyone in town to know, either. Granted, they’d find out soon enough, but not yet.
The motel he stopped at was clean and decent enough, but it wasn’t home. And as soon as he thought that, he knew nothing was ever going to be home again. He wanted to be pissed. But he had no recourse without serious consequences. If anything happened to Bowie James now, even if Jud had nothing to do with it, they’d come after him. He didn’t know what to do next. Should he just cut his losses and leave Georgia, or did he dare go back and fight for Cora?
Then he remembered the shattered look on her face. He’d done a lot of things wrong in his life, and he’d always gotten away with them. Until now. It appeared that his luck had finally run out. He was old—a man used to being in control—yet somehow, he’d let a bastard and a woman get the best of him.
The irony did not escape him.
Bloody hell.
He crawled in bed with his whiskey and proceeded to drink himself unconscious.
* * *
Bowie and his crew had emptied the house of debris and were moving on to the removal of silt and dried mud on the floors, scooping it up with shovels and taking it out in wheelbarrows. They’d just finished with the first two rooms when Bowie called it a day.
“It’s almost six o’clock. Let’s round up our tools. Have a good evening, and get some sleep. We’ll start up in the morning at eight, okay?”
“Sounds good to me,” Matt said.
They began carrying out tools and putting them in the trailer. After having all of his tools stolen years ago, Bowie had put a security alarm on it, too. Ray was towing the trailer on this job, so at night it was parked at the bed-and-breakfast where they were staying.
“Here’s the door key, Boss,” Ray said, and tossed it to Bowie so he could lock up. “Enjoy your family tonight. See you in the morning.”
“Thanks,” Bowie said, and caught the key in midair. Then he stood on the porch watching them drive away before going back inside for one last look.
What they’d done today had stripped away every reference point he had. He was thinking about opening up the wall between the kitchen and living room, then taking the bedroom next to Granny’s room and turning it into a nice roomy bathroom and walk-in closet. He’d talk to her tonight to see what she thought about that. It was her house, after all.
He went through the rooms, shutting and locking windows, then locked the back door off the kitchen, and then the front door as he went out. He paused, then flattened the palm of his hand on the old door, feeling the rough surface and peeling paint.
“I’ll be back,” he said softly. “I won’t leave until you’re beautiful again.”
Then he got in his Cherokee and drove home.
It was habit for him to think back over the jobsite after they’d ended work for the day, reminding himself what permits to pull and to check into local suppliers. He’d momentarily forgotten he was no longer living alone, until he pulled up to the motor home and parked.
The aroma of frying chicken hit him first. His mouth began watering just thinking about it. He set the alarm on his car and was walking up the steps with his house key at the ready when the door opened abruptly.
“Welcome home!” Rowan said.
The smile on her face knocked Bowie for a loop. He had a momentary fantasy about what coming home to her would be like.
“That’s the best welcome ever,” he said, and stepped over the threshold and went to greet the girls.
Ella turned to greet him when he stopped her.
“Don’t hug me. I’m filthy, but something sure does smell good in here,” he said, and kissed her on the cheek. “I have to take a shower before I can sit anywhere. Today was all about cleanup.”
“Was it bad?” Gran asked.
Bowie nodded. “Yes, ma’am, but we’re going to fix it. I’ll fill you in while we eat. Give me about ten minutes, and I’ll be back.”
Rowan was blinking back tears, a witness to the love between them. She didn’t know her face reflected her emotions so easily, but it did, and Bowie saw them. Determined to change her mood, he reached toward her, pretending he was going to put his dirty hand on her face.
When she squealed and jumped back, he grinned and kept moving toward the bathroom.
He shed his dirty clothes just inside the door and turned on the shower, then grabbed a washcloth and stepped inside. The water was cold at first, but he was hot, so he didn’t really care. He just stood beneath the spray, letting the water sluice off the initial dirt as he shampooed his hair, then scrubbed himself clean. Normally, he shaved every morning, so as was his habit, he left the day’s worth of beard on its own.
Thinking about the meal awaiting him, he dressed in a pair of clean sweats and a T-shirt and came out barefoot, carrying his dirty clothes. He dropped them in a plastic laundry basket in front of the stackable washer and dryer to deal with later.
“You have just about everything in this trailer that you could ever want,” Ella said as he snitched a hot, crunchy crumb from the edge of the platter of chicken.
“It was built to my specifications. I had to wait almost a year for it to be finished, but it’s been worth it.”
“Everything is ready,” Gran said. “Take a seat, and I’ll pour your iced tea.”
“Are you sure I can’t help?” he asked.
“I’m positive,” she said. “Go. Sit.”
And just like that, the memories came flooding back. This was supper. Every single night of his young life, it had played out this way. Granny telling everyone to sit, and his mom and Ella carrying dishes to the table. Only his mom was missing. The rest was just the same.
Then he caught Rowan watching him and amended that thought. It wasn’t the same. Dark Eyes was here.
He held up his hands. “Better?”
She grinned. “Much.”
He sat, watched the women carrying food to the table, unprepared for the wash of emotions running through him. Finally everything was on the table, and the girls were seated.
“Bowie, we still say grace before a meal,” Ella said.
“Then bless this food and me, because tonight I feel like the luckiest man in the world,” he said.
Rowan was the first to reach for his hand, and one by one, they linked themselves in a circle, as Ella bowed her head in prayer.
The knot in Bowie’s throat tightened. Rowan’s skin was soft, but he felt little calluses on her palms, a sign of growing up on a farm. Gran’s grip was surprisingly strong—as if she was holding on tight for
fear she’d lose him again. Then Ella said, “Amen,” and he blinked. He hadn’t heard a word she’d said, and he’d lost the connection to both women when they let go of his hands. The scene before him was so surreal that for a moment, it almost seemed like a dream.
“This is the first time I have eaten with family since the night of my eighteenth birthday, and the first time I’ve had a real meal at this table. I just wanted you all to know how special this is to me,” he said.
“We’re just as glad to have you home as you are to see us,” Gran said, and passed him the platter of chicken. “Help yourself, and pass it to the left.”
Bowie grinned. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and forked a piece onto his plate and passed the platter to Rowan.
And so the meal progressed. Bowie talked about the day of demolition, and that they’d had to take it all down to the studs because of the mold and water damage. Then he broached the subject of opening up the space between the kitchen and dining room and making Gran’s room a true master with a bath en suite and a walk-in closet.
Pearl’s eyes widened in delight. “Oh, Ella…just like I talked about.”
“That’s great, Mama,” Ella said, then patted Bowie’s hand. “Once Mama knew what your chosen profession became, she began watching all of the remodel shows on HGTV. Every time they’d go in to renovate a house, her favorite thing to watch was them opening up the spaces from little enclosed rooms to one big one.”
Bowie loved hearing that. “Gran, do you want the living room opened up, too?”
Pearl beamed. “You can do that?”
“Yes, ma’am. I can do that,” Bowie said.
“I’m so excited,” Pearl said.
Bowie grinned. “Well, I’m excited about this meal, and I think I’d like one more piece of chicken.”
“That’ll make three, but who’s counting?” Rowan said.
Bowie burst out laughing. “Guilty,” he said, and finished off his meal with that last piece of chicken.
“You bought ice cream. Do you want dessert?” Ella asked.
“Not for me,” Bowie said. “At least not right now. I want to savor what I’ve already eaten.”
