by Vicky Jones
“And if I don’t help you? Shona asked, folding her arms.
Bertie’s expression hardened. “Well, loose lips sink ships, as they say.”
Bertie left Shona to ponder that thought.
It was almost a week before Shona next went over to the bar, deciding to let a few days pass for Bertie to calm down, but, after the stifling heat of that day, the thought of an ice cold Coke was too much for Shona to resist.
“Bertie won’t be happy to see you in here,” Lula said, uncapping a bottle and placing it in front of Shona.
“She around?” Shona asked, taking a swig.
“Nope.”
Shona scanned the near-empty saloon area, nodding to Dee who was writing furiously in a notebook in one corner booth.
“She’s writin’ a letter to the Chief of Police,” Lula said. “Tryin’ to get Everett back as soon as possible. Oh, there’s talk he’s comin’ back, but no date set yet. Lawrence is out of hand. We need to do somethin’.”
“What about you, Lula? Are you up for a fight alongside Bertie, or up for a discussion alongside Dee?”
“I could ask the same of you, Shona,” Lula replied. She put down her copy of The Ladder and leaned her elbows on the bar, her face inches from Shona’s.
“You don’t make change by fighting,” Shona replied in a low voice. “You make it by changing one heart, and one mind at a time. Through educating people that we’re no different than they are. We just love in a different way, no worse, no better. That’s how you get peace.” She paused to swig from her bottle as Lula leaned back from her and smiled.
“I’ll be honest, I’m tired of fighting,” Dee announced as she approached the bar and sat next to Shona. “My family have been through enough already, being black. We have to live on the other side of town, so we stay out of the firing line. But me being the way I am as well as black, well, that’s just way too much for folks around here to comprehend. I agree, Shona. Words will change the world, not violence. I ain’t doing no bad shit. I’ll hold a sign, protest or whatever, like they’re doing down in the South, but no violence. Not from me.”
“Amen to that,” Shona said, clinking her bottle with Dee’s glass.
Lula rolled her eyes. “Well, I’ve had enough of this shit too, you know. I wanna fight, even if you two don’t. We should let the bastards know who they’re dealin’ with, arrestin’ our friends like that. They hate the way I dress, the way I look. Just because all their wives and daughters can’t help but stare at me,” she added with a glint in her eye. “No, Bertie can count me in for a fight, no question.” The buckles on the wrist of her leather jacket clanged on the bar top as she banged her fist down on it.
“Well, good for you, Lula, but not everyone in this town wants a riot,” Dee replied, then turned to Shona. “Say, can I read you my letter, see if it sounds OK?”
“Sure,” Shona smiled, glad that there was at least one person in town who thought like her.
Shona returned home that evening with Lula’s words still ringing in her ears.
“I don’t care what they say to you, what they threaten you with, I don’t want you joining this riot,” Chloe said after Shona had filled her in over dinner on her conversation with Lula, and the threat she’d received from Bertie last week. “There’s too much to lose and nothing to gain. We came here in peace, not for more fighting, remember?”
“Of course I remember,” Shona replied, reaching for her hand across the kitchen table.
“Good, because I’ll be honest with you, Shona, I just don’t think I can take any more. You know how much I’m struggling. I need you more than ever, Shona. We both do.” Chloe’s face was pale, the dark circles still prominent underneath her dull eyes.
“I ain’t got any intention of doing anything to ruin what we got here. We’ve been through enough. I was thinking, maybe we could speak to Doctor Thomas. See if he can prescribe you something to help with when you’re feeling down? Or maybe just be someone you can go talk to?”
“I think that would help me. I’m due to see him again soon. I’ll ask.”
Bertie sat forward in her booth as Dee and Lula filled her in on their conversation with Shona, each giving different opinions on Shona’s stance on the matter.
“Well, the way I see it she’s an important ally to us. She could make the difference. I need to make a few calls, I think.”
Lula noticed Bertie’s furtive grin. “What are you cookin’ up?”
“If she won’t come willingly, maybe she needs a reason to hate Lawrence more than the rest of us put together,” Bertie replied, rising out of her seat.
Chapter 25
With the weather so blissful that Friday afternoon, Shona and Chloe had taken a picnic down to the beach. They lay there on a towel looking on as David and Cooper splashed about on the shoreline.
“This is exactly what I needed,” Chloe gushed as she breathed in the salty sea air.
“I know. I never want anything to change ever again,” Shona replied, stroking Chloe’s hair. “I don’t know if I could take it.”
“I went to see Doctor Thomas this morning. He said I can go and see him any time I’m feeling a little overwhelmed by my emotions. He seemed to actually understand.” There was a light in Chloe’s eyes as she spoke, like a weight was starting to lift from her shoulders.
“That’s really good, honey. I’m glad.” Shona wrapped her up in an embrace and kissed her forehead.
As the afternoon turned to evening, they began packing up the hamper and set off back up the boardwalk to the beach house.
“I’ll get started on dinner. Can you put David in the tub for me?” Chloe called out as she put the sandy beach towels in the laundry hamper, then headed into the kitchen. She looked out of the window that faced out on to the driveway and froze. Sheriff Lawrence was getting out of his car with Barnes. Out of the second car stepped two other women, one dressed in a formal looking two-piece navy blue suit. The second woman was Marion, wearing her crisp white nurse’s uniform.
“Shona!” Chloe yelled, then went to the front door, ripping it open before the sheriff could knock.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Clark. I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I’m Sheriff Lawrence. That there’s my deputy, Barnes, and of course you know Marion over there.” He motioned his hand towards his wife who stood looking stony-faced by the car she’d arrived in. The suited woman faced Chloe, her arms folded.
“I know who you are, acting Sheriff Lawrence. Shona, can you come out here, please,” she yelled again as calmly as she could muster.
“What is it?” Shona replied, flustered. In her arms she held David, who was still dressed in his bathing suit and tee shirt, his toes sandy. “What the hell’s going on?” Shona gripped onto David tighter as she glared at Lawrence.
“We got a call down at the station ‘bout an hour ago confirmin’ suspicions we’ve had for a while about you two and the boy there,” Lawrence began, looking up at Chloe and Shona from his position at the foot of the porch steps. The woman in the suit strode over to him. “This is Barbara Haskins. From the Children’s Bureau.”
“Children’s Bureau?” Chloe gasped, then looked in horror at Shona who remained outwardly cool.
“What suspicions?” Shona asked through tight lips.
Lawrence smirked and looked back at his wife who nodded. “Well, Marion here heard you two talkin’ a while back, outside your garage. She’s concerned for the boy’s safety. Reckons there’s somethin’,” he paused, as if searching for the right word, “improper goin’ on here.”
“Well, she heard wrong, didn’t she? We were talking about a couple of friends of ours, that’s all,” Chloe said, sticking her chin out.
“You ain’t got no right coming here, Lawrence. You know it. We ain’t done nothing wrong,” Shona spat back.
“You’ve been seen on numerous occasions goin’ into that queer bar in town. Don’t try to deny it now.”
“By who? Anyway, there’s no la
w against going to a bar.”
“Barnes, hand me that there notepad from Walker.”
“Here you go, boss,” Barnes piped up, passing the notepad to his boss.
Lawrence opened it up, his evil stare not lifting from Shona. “Jerry Stone, Dee Francis, Edie Foster, Lula Bell, Jimmy Anderson, Ronnie Becker, Shona from the garage…” He grinned as he read the last name. “Chloe Clark.”
Shona and Chloe stared at each other. “That night I freaked out and came to find you,” Chloe whispered as a sinking feeling churned in the pit of her stomach.
“So what?” Shona said. “Lots of people go in there for a drink after work.”
Lawrence smirked. “Come on now, miss. We all ain’t stupid around here. You can try and talk your way out of all evidence we’re buildin’ on you two, but there’s one thing you haven’t thought of.” He flicked his head towards the beach house. “The whole town knows beach houses like this only have two bedrooms. So…if the kid has one room, then where do you two sleep? And…where did she leave the kid that night at the bar?” Lawrence added before flicking his hand to his deputy who stomped up the porch steps with intent. The suited woman followed him, as did Marion.
“What are you going to do?” Chloe exclaimed, blocking the entrance to the house with her body and shielding Shona and David.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the suited woman said, not sounding in the least bit sorry. “But in the interests of the child, and his safety, we have to take him into the care of the state until we can determine the facts of the case. We cannot have him exposed to dangers of this type of lifestyle.” She held Chloe back, while Marion barged past her and reached out for David.
“Over my dead body you will,” Shona raged, turning her back to Marion until she almost wrestled David out of her arms.
“No! Momma, no!” David screamed, tears gushing down his face. Cooper barked, gripping his jaws around the hem of Marion’s tunic.
“Get that mutt off my wife or I’ll have it shot,” Lawrence growled. Barnes reached for his revolver.
“No, wait!” Chloe shouted, looking at Shona. She grabbed Marion’s free arm. “Please, don’t do this, Marion. You know I’m a good mother. You’ve seen how happy David is. Please, I’m begging you, please.”
“It’s not right for the boy, Chloe,” Marion hissed back. “You can’t bring up a healthy minded child in this,” she paused, a look of revulsion on her tight face, “relationship.” David screamed in pain from his arm being pulled. Shona let him go.
“No, Shona, don’t let her take him,” Chloe wailed, but Marion had already whipped David away and was halfway to her car.
“We’ll be back to question you both later,” the suited woman said. “For now, rest assured the boy will be well looked after.”
Lawrence climbed back in his car, Barnes in the driver’s seat. David sat in the back of the second car on Marion’s knee, the woman in the suit driving. Both cars pulled away slowly as if elongating the torment for both Chloe and Shona who stood watching as David tapped his tiny palms on the window and screamed. Chloe sank to the ground, inconsolable. Shona, in complete shock, stood watching the cars disappear, all sounds around her muffled, her vision blurring.
“Why did you let him go?” Chloe bawled, her face red and soaked with tears.
“Because they were hurting him. I couldn’t bear it,” Shona replied, her voice barely audible. She reached down to pick Chloe up off the ground, placed her gently on the porch swing and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back later. I gotta go sort this out.”
“No, I’ll come with you,” Chloe replied, wiping her face and trying unsuccessfully to compose herself, but Shona had already leaped down the steps and was in the truck roaring away.
After barging past anyone who dared to step in her way, Shona kicked the door of Sheriff Lawrence’s office wide open.
“What the…” Lawrence spluttered, wiping fresh coffee off his blue shirt.
“I wanna know two things, and maybe then I might let you keep your teeth, Lawrence,” Shona roared, not giving a damn for the three cops who had hurried up behind her with their cuffs ready and revolvers aimed. “Who called you, and where is David?”
Lawrence stared at her for a moment then waved his men away. “Well, they are two very good questions.” He sat down in his chair. “The first question I’m not at liberty to answer, and the second, well, that ain’t none of your goddamn business now, is it?”
“You tell me where my boy is or I swear…” Shona ripped away the chair in front of her and slammed her palms on his desk, her face almost puce.
Lawrence leaned forward, grinning again. “He’s not your kid, though, is he?” The malice dripped from his voice. “He’s not even related to you. As far as I am concerned, you have no legal say in what happens to that boy.”
Shona sat on a bench outside, her head spinning, her emotions raging like wildfire inside her. She knew that the second she’d laid a finger on Lawrence she would have been arrested and thrown in the cells, doing her and Chloe, and David, no good at all. A tiny part of her, however, regretted not at least getting one punch in at Lawrence, even if just to wipe the smug grin off his face. No, there was only one person she could think of that could possibly help her and Chloe now.
“Shona, it’s late. Are you OK?” Minnie Barker’s concerned face appeared in the crack of the open door seconds after Shona had wearily knocked on it.
“They’ve taken him, Minnie. They’ve taken David,” Shona managed to squeeze out, her voice quivering.
“Oh my, you’d better come in,” Minnie said, putting her arm around Shona and leading her inside.
Shona sat at the bar and ordered a beer and whiskey chaser. Serving it to her, Lula smiled. “You look as if you need those.” Shona ignored her and held out a dollar. “On me,” Lula replied, waving away the dollar.
“Come to talk us out of it?” Bertie asked after sidling up behind Shona. Shona turned to see a determined looking Bertie, then looked over her shoulder at the group of angry women she didn’t recognize as regulars, sitting in a booth. On the table in front of them was a vast array of baseball bats, hockey sticks and protest placards.
“No more violence?” Shona read. “A little ironic, don’t you think?” She nodded her head towards the weapon-strewn table. “And no, I haven’t come to talk you out of it.” She slugged down the last of her beer, then followed it with the shot. “Someone needs to take these bastards down. I lost my kid today. I only have one request,” Shona said.
“Name it.”
“I won’t hurt anyone. Some of the cops have done nothing wrong. But if we see Lawrence out there, he’s mine.”
A sly grin appeared at the corner of Bertie’s thin lips. “Agreed. Welcome to the party, Shona.”
Shona stood in the restroom of the bar looking down the black balaclava she’d borrowed from Bertie and began scrunching it through her tight fists. Taking in a huge deep breath, she stared at the reflection of a woman she hardly recognized. The carefree soul who’d thought her traumatic life was finally starting to change seemed to be all but gone.
“No more hiding in the shadows. No more pretending that the world will accept you without a fight. The time for action is now,” she said, slipping the balaclava over her blonde hair. Pulling it down and adjusting the eye holes so she could see clearly, she took one last look at herself. “I tried to live a quiet life. But I gotta fight back now. For my family. Please forgive me, Dorothy.”
“They’re all out there,” Edie reported, her thumb and forefinger prizing open the blinds.
“Ready?” Bertie said after turning to Shona.
“Ready,” Shona replied through tight lips.
“Then what are we waitin’ for? Let’s go crack some skulls,” Lula roared, banging her bat against the bar. The others in the bar cheered and stormed out the exit onto the sidewalk, then recoiled when they saw in the near distance the wall of police officers.
Edie shot a look towards Bert
ie, then at Shona, both standing front and center. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Bert? They look like they mean business.”
“We need to make this look like police brutality. If that means we take a few hits ourselves, then so be it,” Bertie hissed back.
Edie switched her stare to Shona who fixed her gaze on one man in particular, her lip curling at his menacing grin.
“Let’s do this,” Shona commanded. She walked forward, then picked up her pace until she was almost at the middle of the street. Bertie gave the rallying cry and the rest of the group ran after her.
“C’mon, boys, let’s put these bitches down,” Lawrence roared. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a grenade.
Shona’s blood turned to ice. “Get down!” she yelled behind her, watching in horror as the grenade whistled over her head and into the crowd of women behind her. Every heart was in every mouth as the grenade hit the concrete, bounced once, then twice before exploding into a huge cloud of smoke. Relieved it was not real, Shona turned back to the approaching men and let out a murderous battle cry. In less than thirty seconds, the rest of the women had caught up with Shona and were now fighting hard with the police officers. Wood clanged against metal shields, bats and batons crashing together, the crunching sound of them hitting arms and legs filling the air.
“Bertie, I’m hit,” cried Lula, her nose a bleeding mess.
“Come on, Lula, fight,” Bertie replied, trying to fend off two young officers who had rounded on her. Within seconds she too had been battered to the ground.
The gravel was swathed with pools of blood and vomit from those hit so hard in the stomach that they writhed on the floor in agony. Lula looked down at the young police officer she’d hit hard enough for blood to now pour down his forehead. She spat on the ground next to him then, whooping like a wild animal, brandished her bat in the air and ran off to strike down her next victim.