by Vic Kerry
“You’re a war widow. What does it matter?”
The end-of-school bell rang. Connie shuffled the papers she was not going to get finished grading and put them into her desk drawer. She stared at Charlotte until the sound of scuffling feet at lockers in the hall outside the door died away. It had to be five minutes of complete silence. It nearly drove Charlotte nuts.
“My fiancé died in Korea. We weren’t married, so I’m not a widow. Sim is divorced. The marriage ended because either Sim or his ex-wife did something wrong.”
Charlotte could see the true dilemma in Connie’s face. “It was his fault.”
“I know. I don’t think I can keep on with him. I haven’t found the right time to tell him.”
The bobbysoxer’s heart sank. Somehow she had fallen prey to those cheesy love stories at the pictures. Love prevailed over all, even though her brother was an aggravating man. It saddened her that Connie wouldn’t be her sister-in-law. She liked her a lot.
“Are you going to help us decorate the gym tomorrow night?” Charlotte asked.
Connie smiled. “If you’ll shut up long enough so I can grade those tests.”
Charlotte pulled an imaginary zipper across her lips, snapped a make-believe padlock over it, and tossed away the invisible key. Connie nodded.
The front door slammed shut while Charlotte and her folks were eating dinner. Her father jumped to his feet, fists balled and ready to fight. Sim charged into the kitchen. Her father let his hands relax but didn’t sit back down.
“What do you mean storming into this house like that?” her father demanded.
“That stupid bitch turned me down,” Sim said.
“Watch your mouth,” her father said. “There are ladies present.”
Sim looked down at Charlotte. His eyes told her that he didn’t believe she was very much of a lady. Despite how much she loved her mother’s fried pork chops and creamed potatoes with brown gravy, her appetite vanished.
“Connie told me she couldn’t marry me. And what’s worse, she wants nothing to do with me.” Sim sat at the empty chair. He put his hands over his face and started to cry.
Charlotte pitied him. The idea of true love still made her think that Connie would change her mind. She put her hand on his shoulder, but he jerked away as if she had burned him.
“Don’t touch me, whore,” he snapped.
A loud pop echoed across the table. Sim favored the cheek closest to their mother. She held her right hand in her left, rubbing it, her lips drawn into such a tight angry slit that they nearly disappeared. For a stunned moment, the family sat around the table like a Norman Rockwell painting gone wrong. Charlotte’s daddy walked around the table, snatched Sim up by arm and shoved him through the house and out the door.
“Don’t you dare come back here until you learn some manners,” her daddy yelled from the entryway.
The front door slammed again. This time it was her daddy who’d done it. He walked back into the kitchen, red faced and puffing like a bull. Her mother continued to rub her hand. Charlotte cradled her ego, which stung from the verbal slap her brother had given her. Yet she still loved him despite how horrible he could be.
“Something bad is going to happen to that boy one day,” her father said, sitting back down to his plate. “If it ain’t already.”
“Don’t talk like that, Herman,” her mother said.
“You can’t ignore what he called his sister,” her daddy said. “No one who does good things in good places talks like that to his family.” He looked at his half-eaten meal. “I ain’t even hungry anymore.”
“Neither am I.” Charlotte could barely keep from crying. “May I be excused?”
“Of course,” her mother said.
She left the table, went to her room, and cried.
Chapter Nineteen
For reasons he wasn’t entirely sure of, butterflies fluttered in Josh’s stomach. His dad had been acting strange all afternoon. He caught a glimpse of Thomas as their dad fumbled with the key in Aunt Charlotte’s front door. His brother looked as confused and anxious. His dad seemed a little deranged as the key failed to turn the tumblers.
“What’s the matter with this thing?” Alan asked. “I don’t even remember locking it when I ran out last night.”
“Dad, relax,” Thomas said. “Let me try.”
Alan stepped back and let his son try the door. He had a near-panicked look on his face. This puzzled Josh more than anything. Alan’s reaction was extreme. The butterflies fluttered harder.
“I don’t get it.” Thomas let go of the door handle. “It’s like someone superglued the lock.”
“Kick it in,” Alan said.
“Whoa, Daddy.” Josh put his hand on his father’s shoulder with a firmness he hoped would imply calm, even though he continued to get increasingly jazzed up by his father’s behavior. “Why don’t we try the back door?”
“That’s a good idea,” Alan said with a calmer voice. His shoulder slumped to a more relaxed position.
“If that doesn’t work,” Josh said, “we can try the door from the garage.”
“And there’s always the window she leaves unlocked,” Thomas said.
“I’ll go around back,” Alan said. He held his hand out to Thomas for the keys.
“We’ll all go,” Josh said.
His father might still try to stomp the door in if the key didn’t work. Thomas kept the keys, and the three McAdamses walked off the screened porch. Jessica stayed.
“Aren’t you coming?” Josh asked.
“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll sit in the glider swing,” she said. “You can come and get me when you get in,” she added as she sat down.
“All right.”
They walked around the house. The grass was high for the time of the year. Usually it had already stopped growing by now, and sometimes even died. He needed to come over and mow it to keep it from looking ratty.
Thomas got to the back door before the others. He tried to unlock it. The key fit, but his brother couldn’t turn the lock. He jiggled the knob.
“It’s like the front door,” he said.
Alan walked up the narrow stairs and nudged Thomas down a step. He fumbled with the door and had as much success.
“Let me try,” Josh said. Sometimes he had a way with pesky locks. It came in handy with lockers and sneaking in at night.
Alan moved aside, which reassured Josh that his father was giving way to more rational thinking. He took the key out of the lock and blew on it. Sometimes wayward fluff from pockets would stick to the teeth. The same could happen with the tumblers, so he bent down and blew into the lock as well. The key went in easily, but when Josh twisted it, nothing budged. He moved the key out a little and tried again, with the same result. Another try, shoving the key in very hard, came up the same.
“I think someone might have put something in there, but that can’t be,” Josh said.
“Because the key will fit,” Alan said. “I thought about that, too. Epoxy or even superglue would plug up the keyhole.”
“Hold on,” Thomas said. He walked to the kitchen window that was over the sink. He was tall enough to reach the bottom of it without a boost. He pushed on the pane hard enough that it should have sent the window sailing open, but nothing happened. Thomas stood on his tiptoes to put forth extra effort. The veins stood out on his brother’s neck as he strained at the window.
Thomas relented. “It won’t budge.”
“Maybe it’s locked,” Josh said.
“Nope, I can see the lock.”
“Let’s go to the garage,” Alan suggested. “I know I left that door unlocked.”
“Hold on, Dad,” Josh said, a little tired of the whole charade. “Why is it so important to get in there?”
“If I tell you, I’m afraid you won’t be able to give a clear answer,” Alan said with an irrational tone returning to his voice.
“No, tell us,” Thomas said. “You’re sounding crazy.”
&n
bsp; “It was your aunt’s car that killed Corey. I knew that last night. I came over to check. The car was gone. When I went into the house, I saw something. I need you two to tell me I’m not crazy.”
“You’re acting a little bit that way,” Thomas said.
Josh punched his brother in shoulder. He got a froggy in return.
“Let’s check the garage door,” Josh said.
The three of them walked around the other side of the house and came up beside the garage. Alan punched in the number of the garage door lift. It rumbled to life. As they stepped into the gloom of the garage, the bulb on the lift had burned out. Jessica poked her head from the porch.
“I got the door opened.”
All three of them stopped. No one said anything for a moment. They looked at her dumbfounded. Thomas spoke first, as he tended to do.
“How?”
“I’m good with locks,” she said.
“You don’t have a key,” Josh protested.
Jessica showed them something, but she was too far away for them to see. “Hairpin.”
“Does that actually work?” Thomas whispered.
“I suppose so,” Josh answered back. He had no clue.
“It always did on Scooby-Doo,” Alan said.
The McAdams men walked back to the porch. Despite the mania that seemed to have gripped them, they hung their heads a little defeated. Despite how much he liked Jessica, Josh never liked being one-upped by a girl, and Thomas hated it. He supposed it was the only negative character trait they had inherited from Sim.
When they stepped on the porch, the front door stood open. Josh looked inside and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Alan rushed into the house like a man on a suicide mission. Josh and Thomas followed. They stuck in the door for a moment as both tried to enter at the same time. Josh felt like slapping his brother on the back of the head, impersonating Moe from the Three Stooges, but his father’s manic behavior made him quickly squeeze his shoulders inward to break the logjam. Jessica entered last.
Alan walked quickly from the kitchen into the living room and back into the entryway before going into the sitting room. Josh watched him, thinking he looked like a mouse in a maze that couldn’t quite remember how to find the cheese.
“What’s the matter with him?” Jessica asked.
“He’s gone crazy,” Thomas answered.
Alan stopped in the entryway, bent over panting. His eyes glared around the room. It scared Josh a little. By the expression on Thomas’s face, it scared him as well.
“It’s gone,” Alan said between gasps. “It’s all gone.”
“What’s gone?” Josh asked. “Everything looks okay to me.”
“There was crepe paper everywhere. It was hanging in here, and over there.” Alan flung his hands frantically. “The record player was playing some old song from the 50s.”
Thomas walked into the living room. “Was it some guy named Pat Boone?” he yelled. “Because that’s what’s on the record player.”
“No.” Alan put his face into his hands. “No, it was a song called ‘Sh-Boom’.”
“‘Love Letters in the Sand’,” Thomas yelled back.
“I’m not crazy,” Alan said to Josh. His face looked tired and old. “There were baby blue and gray streamers everywhere. This place was decorated for a party.”
“Or a dance,” Josh corrected.
His Aunt Charlotte would talk about getting the wrong colored crepe paper for the dance. She would have been killed that day if she hadn’t gone for the decorations.
“Jessica, was everything like this when you opened the door?” Alan asked.
“Yeah. The only thing was it smelled a little bit like Cool Water cologne,” she said.
Thomas walked back in from the living room. “A lot of the guys on the team wear that stuff, Dad. You’ve smelled it before. You’ve had to. Some folks douse themselves in it.”
“Do you think someone broke in when they stole the car and decorated the place?” Josh asked. He was trying to confirm his own suspicions.
“Maybe,” Alan said.
“They must’ve come back in and cleaned up everything,” Thomas said. “To cover their tracks.”
“Why?” Alan asked. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“I bet it was Marcus Smithson and his buddies,” Josh said. “They knew that Aunt Charlotte had to go to the hospital. I bet they did it to scare her back into the place when she got out.”
“Do you think they stole the car and killed Corey?” Thomas asked.
“They wouldn’t be alive,” Alan said. “Your grandfather saw her car. He said no one could have survived the accident. I saw Corey’s Jeep and completely agree.”
“Marcus drove me to the library a little while ago,” Jessica said. “He would brag if he’d set up a prank like that.”
“Maybe it was Corey,” Thomas suggested. “He loved that stupid cologne. He almost bathed in it.”
“I was with him the whole afternoon and a good part of the evening,” Alan said.
“And he ended up dead.” Josh knew it sounded cold, but it needed to be said. “It still wouldn’t answer who took it down.”
“Let’s go,” Thomas said. “I’m getting the creeps.”
Jessica shivered. “Me too.”
Alan looked around. Josh could tell he was desperately searching for some scrap of paper that would prove he hadn’t imagined it. He didn’t think his dad would find any. After everything that happened lately, it was enough to make anyone believe anything. He had seen the ghost of a girl who died forty years earlier. Even now he was unsure that hadn’t been his imagination.
His father led the way out of the house, the others following. Josh locked the door behind him as he pulled it closed. They walked off of the porch single file. Every one of them seemed down and worried—even Jessica, who had no connection to any of it.
When they got into the car, Alan turned on the radio. For some reason it was set to the local golden oldies channel, 91.7 WALA. Four guys sang the chorus. It was “Sh-Boom.” Thomas punched the button for 105.9 The X out of Birmingham. “Peaches” by the Presidents of the United States started playing. Josh absolutely hated the song, but he welcomed it over the golden oldie.
“Thank you,” Alan said. As he backed down the driveway, he added, “Let’s go get something to eat.”
The sun set over the river. Its warm pink and orange glow reflected on the water like fireworks. The colors of the leaves added to the impressionistic look of the scene. Josh and Jessica sat in his car at the River Park picnic area. He’d parked all the way at the edge of the bluff over the Buxataloosa River. Few people came out there anymore. It had a small swimming beach at the base of the bluff. A set of steps led down to it, but a little boy had drowned at the beginning of the summer.
“It’s pretty this evening,” Jessica said after they had sat there for a long time.
“It’s hard to believe that something that horrible happened yesterday,” Josh said.
Over dinner, they had all talked about Corey’s death. Despite how much he didn’t want the death to affect him, Josh felt something deep inside of him. He couldn’t deny that he didn’t like Corey, but equally, he didn’t want him to die.
“You never realize how fragile life is until someone you know is gone,” Jessica said. “Who do you think did it?”
“I’ve got no idea. My Dad said the other car was so smashed up that no one could have survived driving it.”
“Do you think it was an accident?”
“I hope so. Who would want to kill him?”
“You.”
That single word, uttered from her lips in a flat matter-of-fact tone, set Josh’s teeth on edge like fingernails scraping across a long chalkboard. The last thing in the world he wished for Corey was death. Josh had been taught a long time ago never to wish for someone’s death, because it might happen. The warning was always lodged in the back of his mind.
“I did not. I would never wish that o
n anyone.”
“Not even Marcus Smithson and his buddies?”
“No. I gave them what they deserved.”
“But they trashed your aunt’s house.” Jessica never looked at him.
“You were there. The house was fine.”
“How about your grandfather?”
Josh looked at her and touched her arm so that she would look at him. Her eyes were very serious, like she had been focusing hard on something outside that wasn’t the sunset.
“I don’t want anyone to die. Why are you asking me about it? Do I come off like some kind of serial killer?”
“Psycho killer, qu’est-ce que c’est,” she sang.
He stared at her like she had lost her mind. At that moment, in his mind she had. She must have noticed. Her eyes softened to a look of playfulness, and she let out a good-natured cackle like she impersonated a witch.
“It’s the Talking Heads. Lighten up. I know you wouldn’t ever want to kill anyone. It’s getting close to Halloween. You needed a good scare.”
“Is that what it was?” he asked, not quite believing her.
“Of course! We should go costume shopping.”
“We’ve got no reason to wear them. You don’t trick-or-treat still, do you?”
“We can throw a party—or even better, wear them to the Homecoming dance. We’ll get matching ones.” .
“I don’t think they’ll be having a dance after what happened with Corey. People won’t much be in the mood. Plus, why would we wear matching costumes? People would think we were a couple.”
“That would be horrible, wouldn’t it?”
Before he could say another word, she grabbed him by the face and pulled him close to her. They kissed without him completely grasping what was going on. Only when he tasted the flavor of her mouth, salty and exactly what he’d imagined, did the gravity of the situation pull him back to earth. Josh put forth the effort to make their initial kiss a memorable one. Mediocrity had no place in that moment.
A million things rushed through his head. Jessica was very much into making out. He couldn’t remember ever making out with a girl who was that enthusiastic. During the time they pawed at each other, one of them turned the radio on. Snippets of music floated in the air during that time. Cake followed Bush. At some point a Nirvana song came on. He heard it clearly enough to think about how ironic it was that “Rape Me” should play during that particular moment. Finally things broke off.