Summer of Joy

by Ann H. Gabhart

  “I’m so excited, nervous, whatever, that I’ve probably forgotten something.” Leigh slapped her forehead. “Oh no! I did forget something.”

  “What’d you forget? Your shoes? Your veil?” Jocie asked. “I can run over to your place and get it for you. Tabitha’s not here yet anyway to fix my hair. She’s going to do some little braids in the back.”

  Pamela looked up from Leigh’s hair. “I’m real sorry, Jocie. I did my best to get those curls to stick.” She reached over and touched Jocie’s hair. “You’ve got pretty hair, but it is bound and determined to be straight.”

  “It looks great just the way it is, Jocie. You look great just the way you are. Don’t you worry about it for a minute,” Leigh said. “And I don’t want you to have to go back to the apartment. I can just not use it.”

  “What?” Jocie asked.

  “The fancy garter Zella bought me for the something blue. I had it out there on the dresser, but then I walked right off and forgot to pick it up. I’ve got Miss Sally’s hankie for the something borrowed and Grandma Wilson’s locket for the something old and my shoes for the something new.”

  “Well, honey, you’ve got to have the something blue to make it all work,” Pamela said.

  “And Zella will get upset big time if she bought it for you and you don’t wear it in the wedding. She wants everything to be perfect.” Jocie draped her dress across the back of a chair and headed for the door. “I’ll go get it. I can probably run over there and be back before Tabitha even gets here. Robert just left to go pick up her and Aunt Love.”

  “Don’t run. You’ll get all sweaty,” Leigh yelled after her.

  So Jocie walked and wished for her bike, but it was home. Still, it wasn’t that far and the day had a special glow to it just like Leigh. It was good to be out in the sunshine, to have everybody she met on the street smile and tell her they’d see her later at the wedding. Everybody in Hollyhill was acting as happy as her father and Leigh. It was almost enough to make Jocie reconsider eloping Jupiter style if she ever went crazy enough to think about getting married.

  Jocie stuck Leigh’s key back in her pocket when she got to the apartment. She wasn’t going to need it. Leigh’s door was ajar. Jocie smiled as she crossed the yard thinking Leigh must have really been in a spin when she left for the church. To leave her door standing open.

  Before she started up the steps to the door, Jocie looked over toward Mrs. Simpson’s kitchen window to wave, but Mrs. Simpson wasn’t there peeking out from behind the curtains. She was probably getting dressed to go to the wedding or maybe she was already at the church to stake out the best seat. She’d want to get a good view of everything and everybody.

  The apartment was sort of dark after the bright sunlight outside. For some reason Leigh had pulled all the shades. Jocie frowned. She couldn’t imagine Leigh pulling the shades down and shutting out the sunlight. Not this morning. Not any morning. Leigh liked the sun coming through her windows. She kept her curtains tied back to let in the most light. But maybe she was closing out her old life to start her new. Taking her light with her. Or maybe Mrs. Simpson had been up there to shut up the place since Leigh was moving out.

  It didn’t really matter. Jocie was just there to get the blue garter Zella had bought for Leigh. Tabitha would probably be at the church by now waiting to fix the braids in Jocie’s hair. Leigh had said she left the garter on her dresser. Jocie hoped it was still there, because if it wasn’t, she’d never find it in all the boxes sitting around.

  Jocie pushed open the bedroom door. The light in the bedroom was even dimmer than in the living room. Jocie hesitated. For some reason her heart was beating a little faster and she felt the way she sometimes did when she had to go get a jar of beans or tomatoes out of the cellar for Aunt Love. As if spiders were about to drop on her head and snakes crawl up around her legs. Jocie wanted to turn around and run, leave it to the ghosts or whatever was spooking her, but then she spotted the garter on the dresser.

  She couldn’t leave without that. What would she tell Leigh? That she was too scared to walk into the bedroom and pick up the garter? Then somebody else would have to come get it and they’d be teasing Jocie about it forever.

  She wasn’t afraid of ghosts. She didn’t believe in ghosts. She believed in the Lord. He’d walk across the floor with her. He’d even run across the floor with her and she could snatch the garter and be out of the room before the spiders got her. Besides, Jocie had never seen the first spider in Leigh’s apartment.

  She was picking up the garter when she caught sight of a face staring at her out of the mirror. Her heart bounded up in her throat as she whirled around to stare at Mr. Teacher Creep sitting in the chair by Leigh’s bed. He was smiling at her. Not a good smile.

  “Well, well,” he said. “Look who we have here.”

  She swallowed hard and found her voice. “Mr. Hammond!”

  “Yes indeed. Mr. Hammond himself.”

  The sound of his voice walked cold fingers up her spine. “What are you doing in here?” She tried to keep her voice from shaking but failed.

  “An interesting question. But then you’re always full of interesting questions, aren’t you, Jocie Brooke?”

  She didn’t care if he answered her or not. She just wanted to be out of this room and away from him. She could worry about why he was there later. After she was back at the church. She wrapped her hand around the garter. “I just came to get something for Leigh. I’ll be going now.”

  “I don’t think so.” Mr. Hammond raised his hand up out of his lap. In his hand he had a gun. A gun he pointed straight at Jocie.

  42

  Jocie couldn’t move. Even her breath froze inside her as she stared at the gun. It was a small gun. Black. Not new. The end of the barrel was nicked. But there was no doubt it was real as Mr. Hammond cradled it in his hand with one finger caressing the trigger. Outside a bird was singing. A car went past on the road. Inside, a fly was buzzing and hitting against one of the windows, and the clock beside the bed kept ticking. But time for Jocie screeched to a halt.

  “You act as if you’d never seen a gun before.” Mr. Hammond laughed. It was a terrible sound. “I suppose that’s not something your reverend father has. A gun. He probably wouldn’t even shoot a snake. A bit unlike my own dear departed father who lived and died by the gun. They say a gun very like this one dispatched him to his just rewards.”

  Jocie had thought she knew what it was like to be afraid. She’d been afraid during the tornado and even more afraid after the tornado when she saw Wes trapped under the tree limb. She had been afraid when Miss Sally’s house was on fire and they’d had to crawl out the upstairs window. She’d been afraid, but there had been something to do. Some action to take. A way out of the danger. The Lord had helped her then. She sent up a silent plea for help now. Show me a way out, Lord.

  She kept her eyes on the gun as she slid one of her feet backward. Her heart was pounding so hard that she could barely hear the man when he spoke, but she did see his finger tightening on the trigger. “Stay where you are. I’m not ready for you to leave yet.”

  “But I’m ready to leave,” Jocie managed to say.

  “I’d wager you are.” Again the laugh. “I’d wager you’re about to wet your pants. But let’s talk first.”

  “What about?” Jocie pulled in a slow breath and tried not to think about it maybe being her last. She tore her eyes away from the barrel of the gun pointed toward her and stared at the man’s face.

  “About the good fortune that brought you here at just this moment. Do you believe that some things are meant to be? Ordained. Predestined.” He waved the gun back and forth. “But of course you do. You believe in the Bible.”

  “Why is it meant to be that I’m here?” Jocie asked even as she was frantically praying silently. Lord, help me ask the right questions. Help somebody miss me at church and come hunt me. Let Mrs. Simpson hear us downstairs and call the police.

  “Your father took some
thing from me. Now I have the opportunity to take something from him.”

  “My father didn’t take anything away from you. You never had Leigh.”

  “But if not for your father, who knows what might have been. Your father.” Mr. Hammond spat out the two words. “Everybody thinks he’s so wonderful. Practically the second coming here in Hollyhill.” He shook the gun at her.

  Jocie held her breath. The gun didn’t go off. But then she wondered if it might have been better if it had. Mrs. Simpson would have heard it and called for help. Maybe any noise would do. Jocie could stomp the floor or knock over something. Without moving her head, she looked to the side where a couple of boxes were piled. All she had to do was stumble a bit and bang into them. She did her best to pretend she’d just lost her balance. The top box fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

  “Always thinking, aren’t you, Jocie Brooke?” Mr. Hammond said as he leveled the gun at her again. “But never listening.”

  “I listen.” She was really listening right then. Surely Mrs. Simpson had heard that and would know that nobody was supposed to be in the apartment over her head.

  “You think noise will help you? Here, then, how about a little extra noise?” He jerked the gun up and shot over the top of Jocie’s head.

  Jocie’s heart tried to jump out of her chest as she put her hands over her ears and screamed.

  He brought the gun back down to point at her. “Now that’s too noisy. But the point is, I’ve taken care of the snoopy old lady downstairs. All the noise in the world isn’t going to bring you any help from that quarter.”

  “Taken care of her?” Jocie was surprised she could speak. She was surprised she was still standing the way her legs had turned to jelly. She should have run out the door when he shot the gun. Maybe she should even now run out the door. That might be a good idea if she could trust her legs to work.

  “Oh, don’t look so worried. I didn’t shoot her. Just tied her to her kitchen chair where she can’t spy out her window for a while. I actually didn’t plan to shoot anybody but myself until you showed up.”

  Relief shot through her. At least he hadn’t already shot somebody. Even himself. He’d had time before she had shown up. So maybe he was having second thoughts. “I don’t think you should shoot yourself.”

  “Oh? You think I should only shoot you then?” He raised his eyebrows at her.

  “No. If you shoot me, you’ll go to prison. You wouldn’t like prison.”

  “How could you know that? But that’s the way you are, isn’t it? A veritable fountain of knowledge.” His mouth twisted in disgust as he looked at her.

  “Nobody likes prison,” Jocie said in a small voice.

  “It might be better than Vietnam. I got my draft notice.” He waved the gun toward an envelope on the table beside him. “They found me even out here in Nowhereville. You can’t hide from Uncle Sam. It appears he wants me, but I’m not going to Vietnam. No matter what I have to do.” He had the gun steady on her again.

  “You might not have to go to Vietnam.”

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure I won’t now. Not after tying up Mrs. Snoop downstairs and scaring the socks off you. But then there is that little matter of prison.” He grimaced. “Remember, even you were of the opinion that I wouldn’t like it there.”

  “You haven’t done anything that bad yet. You might get off with probation or something.”

  “Might. Ah, that is the operative word.”

  Jocie tried desperately to think of something more to say, but nothing came to mind. Instead, she sent up silent prayers.

  Mr. Hammond didn’t seem to have as much problem finding words. “You know, I’ve never seen one word of mine in print. Not one word. It’s always rejection after rejection. So sorry your poem is not quite right for our publication. So sorry your story isn’t what we’re looking for this month. So sorry we’re not accepting submissions. So sorry but your words stink. Your exalted father wouldn’t even print my letters to the editor.”

  “You sent something in to the Banner?” Jocie was surprised.

  “I did. Opinion pieces that would have elevated your small town rag from its mediocrity.”

  Jocie frowned. “I don’t remember ever seeing anything from you come into the paper.”

  “No, you wouldn’t have. I didn’t sign my name. Opinions are sometimes best expressed anonymously.”

  “Dad doesn’t print anybody’s letters or whatever unless they sign them. It’s just policy.” Funny, Jocie thought, how talking about the Banner was helping her not be so terrified. Maybe a person could only be totally and completely terrified for so long.

  “So you’re saying your father might have printed my pieces if I’d put my name on them.” He gave her an incredulous look. “I rather doubt that. I have the distinct feeling that your father dislikes me. I doubt he would even pray for me.”

  “That’s not true. I know for a fact he has prayed for you and he said I should pray for you too.”

  “And did you send up prayers to your God for me, Jocie Brooke?” Mr. Hammond lowered his wrist down to rest it on his knee, but he still held the gun pointed at her. He looked amused as he asked, “Are you praying for me right now or for yourself?”

  “Both.”

  “What are you praying?” His smile got bigger.

  “I don’t want to die,” Jocie said.

  “I would have said the same thing last week. But things change.” He lost his smile as he began stroking the gun barrel with his free hand.

  “Not that much. What if you shoot yourself today when in another week you would have wanted to live again? And then it would be too late.”

  “Too late. Such sad words. Your father may have missed you by now. He may be running here, not knowing the danger you are in. Not knowing how if he’d run a bit faster he might have been in time. But now all his life he’ll have to say he was too late.” He raised the gun up.

  And lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world. The words came into her mind and with them a great stillness. Her heart quit pounding so hard and her thoughts were crystal clear. She was not going to die on her father’s wedding day. Not without trying to live.

  43

  If you don’t stand still, Wes, I’ll never get this knot straight,”

  David said as he worked on his best man’s tie.

  Wes quit shifting back and forth on his feet and held his chin up out of David’s way. “I don’t guess I’ve worn a tie since, well, since I started motorcycle riding some years back. I plumb forgot how to work the things.”

  “I could have tied it for you, Wes,” Robert Wesley said. Robert Wesley was looking very handsome in his black suit with his sky blue tie that matched the bridesmaid’s dresses. David hoped Tabitha wouldn’t swoon when she saw him.

  “That’s okay, Junior. We’ll make the groom do the work. We keep him busy enough, he might not notice how shaky he’s feeling,” Wes said.

  David smiled and jerked the tie a little tighter than necessary. “I’m not the least bit shaky.”

  “I don’t know why not,” Robert Wesley said. “I’m nervous, and I’m not even the one getting married.”

  “Not yet anyhow,” Wes said.

  The boy’s face turned pink as he said, “I do hope to marry someday.”

  “Good. I highly recommend it,” Wes said. “For the two of you. I’ll save my suit for the occasion. Better a wedding suit than a funeral suit. Come to think of it, if I were to meet an untimely end, make sure they don’t bury me in it just because it’s handy. I don’t want to go to the hereafter dressed like this. The good Lord might not recognize me.”

  David finished tying the tie and handed Wes the gold tie clip he’d bought for him. “Don’t be talking funerals on my wedding day.”

  “I’ve heard some men say they were one and the same,” Wes said with a grin.

  “But not for me,” David said. “Me, I’m the most blessed man in the world.”

  “Miss Leigh is a prize
. That’s for certain,” Wes said. There was a tap on the Sunday school room door. “Is it time?” David asked.

  Robert Wesley looked at his watch. “Not yet. It’s still fifteen minutes before we’re supposed to go out according to Miss Curtsinger’s schedule.”

  There was another knock before the door opened a crack. Tabitha whispered through the opening, “Dad, we’ve got a problem.”

  “It’s okay, Tabitha. You can come in. We’re all suited up,” David said.

  Tabitha stepped through the door in her blue bridesmaid dress. She looked beautiful with her hair tied back and ribbons falling down among the long tresses. David didn’t really get worried about whatever problem she had come to tell him about until Tabitha hardly even glanced toward Robert Wesley. “What’s wrong?” David asked. “Is Leigh sick?”

  “No, no. Just a little frantic. Jocie’s not here.”

  David frowned. “What do you mean, Jocie’s not here? I dropped her off here myself over an hour ago. She said you were going to fix her hair since whatever Pamela did didn’t work.”

  “Yeah, she was here. But Leigh forgot the blue garter Zella gave her, and Jocie went to get it and she hasn’t come back. I don’t know where she could be.” Tabitha looked worried. “You don’t think she decided to run away again? She didn’t seem upset or anything about you getting married today, did she?”

  “Not a bit. She’s looking forward to having a stepmom. And she definitely hasn’t run away. She promised me she would never do that again.” David’s chest felt tight. Something was wrong.

  Wes must have felt the same thing because every hint of smile was gone as he asked Tabitha, “How long has she been gone?”

  “Leigh couldn’t remember for sure, but it was before I got here and I’ve been here awhile.”

  “I’ll go after her,” Wes said. “Maybe she just forgot the time and is lollygagging.”

  “I’ll go too,” David said. “You need to stay here. That way you can go on with the ceremony,” Wes said.