Between, Georgia

by Joshilyn Jackson

  Grif said, “Jimmy has his foot in my goddamn plate.”

  Billy shrugged. “He can eat off that plate, then. It’s his own foot, so it won’t bother him none.”

  Grif went in the kitchen, and Teak sat back, cooling. Billy was staring at Henry, who felt a flush coming up under his cheeks.

  “Don’t fuck with me,” said Billy. “Smart boy.”

  “I’m not fucking with you,” said Henry.

  Grif came back with five beers stacked in his arms like cord-wood and passed them out. “No pie.”

  “Thanks, bro,” said Billy.

  Jimmy held his loosely, unopened, but everyone else popped their tabs and took a drink, almost in unison.

  Wheel of Fortune had ended some time ago, and now a Schwarzenegger flick was on. “I think I better hit the sack,” said Billy, suddenly jovial. “We gotta drive home in the early A.M. Shit to do, you know. You don’t mind, hey, Henry?”

  “No. I don’t mind,” said Henry.

  Ona said, “I’da thought Nonny would’ve called.”

  Billy tipped back his beer and opened his throat, chugging it, and Grif followed suit. Then Grif said, “Don’t matter, Aunt Ona.

  You can catch up to her tomorrow. I guess I better go on and hit the sack, too.” He turned toward Henry. “You gonna keep these reprobates company for a little?”

  “I’ll be right here,” Henry answered, but his eyes were on Billy.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Good, then,” said Billy.

  “Good,” said Grif.

  “I better head on along to bed, too,” Varner said. Henry hadn’t noticed Varner wake up, but he was stirring, digging deep into his belly button with one thick forefinger and then rising and stretching. All four of the Alabama Crabtrees turned to look at Varner.

  “You’re going to bed, too?” said Grif.

  “Yeah. He’s going to bed,” said the sinkhole on the sofa that was Jimmy. He had oozed down even farther, his chin tipped to rest on his chest. Henry didn’t see how he could possibly see the TV over his feet. Especially since his eyes looked closed. “He’s sleepy, Grif.”

  “Oh. Right,” said Grif.

  Varner got up and headed out of the den. Henry could hear him lumbering down the hall toward the bedrooms. Grif stood up and turned sideways, stepping over Henry’s legs to get free of the coffee table.

  Henry said, “You are about as covert as a stampede. You might as well tell me what’s going on, because I’m not leaving.”

  “Nothing’s going on,” Grif said.

  “Yeah, nothing’s going on,” said Teak. “It’s just that Grif ’s retarded.”

  “And Teak’s an asshole,” said Grif, taking a step toward Teak.

  “But you knew all that,” Billy interjected smoothly, grasping Grif by the elbow before he could get any closer to Teak. “Say good night, boyo.” He gave Grif a shove toward the doorway that led back to the bedrooms. Then he paused and smiled at Henry, all his teeth showing. His round cheeks made his expression bland and benign, but Henry felt gooseflesh break out on his arms. “You’ve kinda pissed me off.” Before Henry could answer, Billy turned and followed Grif off to bed.

  Henry stayed where he was, watching Jimmy sink into a coma and Teak sulk and Ona, who had taken over Varner’s chair, get drunker and drunker. Schwarzenegger was running through a military compound, machine-gunning down men in fatigues.

  “I can’t believe she didn’t come,” said Ona. “Henry, you think she’s in Athens?”

  “I don’t know,” Henry said.

  “You don’t think Nonny is at her house, do you, Henry?” asked Teak.

  “Why would that be bad? What do you think is going to happen at her house?” Henry said.

  Teak stirred, but Ona waved a hand at him and said to Henry,

  “It’s better if we don’t know nothing, baby.”

  “What are you going to do, Teak?” Henry demanded.

  “I’m not going to do a damn thing.” Teak stared sullenly at the television.

  “Shut your holes and watch the movie.” Jimmy was still conscious.

  But Henry had finally gotten it. If Teak wasn’t doing a damn thing and was pissed off about it, it could only be because Grif was doing something. Right now.

  Henry leaped up off the sofa, his Chinet plate tumbling to the floor, and went running down the hall toward the three bedrooms. The door to Tucker’s room stood open, and Varner would be in the master at the end of the hall. The door to the third bedroom was shut. Before Henry could open it, Tucker’s hand snaked under his arm and grabbed the knob, holding it shut.

  “Let go of the door,” Henry said.

  “You don’t want to look,” Teak said. “If you don’t look, then as far as you know, they’re in there.”

  “And that was Nonny’s job, right?” Henry smacked the flat of one hand against the door, hard. “You and Jimmy were supposed to keep her here late, and meanwhile, Grif and Billy go to bed and slip out the window. She thinks they’re sleeping, and she’s sitting right there with you guys. So when something happens to her folks, she thinks it wasn’t you. And she tells the cops she was here with you guys all night. So you screw with her family, and she’s the one who alibis you? That’s sick.”

  Ona, behind Teak, said, “Them Fretts are not her folks. We’re her folks.”

  “Get out of my way, Teak,” said Henry.

  “Make me,” said Teak.

  Henry shoved down hard on Teak’s wrist, and it slipped off the knob. Henry threw open the door and stepped inside, flipping on the lights. The window was open, and a faint breeze was stirring the blinds. The twin beds were undisturbed. Henry turned back around and found Teak blocking him in. He moved toward the door anyway, and Teak reared back and popped Henry in the eye.

  Henry went down.

  “Teak, no!” yelled Ona.

  Henry got slowly back to his feet. He hadn’t been in a fistfight since he was in third grade, and Teak, long-armed and tall, was in a brawl or two every month. Henry went for him, landing a solid right to Teak’s belly before Teak put him on the ground again.

  “Stop it! Stop it!” Ona was still cawing.

  “Think it through, Teak.” Henry got to his feet again. “You better let me go stop them. Nonny didn’t come, and you were so transparent that even I saw through it. The cops will, too, in a lot less time than it took me. And you won’t have a witness to back up your story. You’re sending Billy and Grif out there with no alibi.”

  “Serves Grif right,” said Teak.

  “But not Billy,” Henry replied softly. “Do you know what they’re going to do?”

  Teak shrugged, but Henry was still turning it around in his mind. Something was niggling at him. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his aching head. His eye and the side of his head hurt. And then he had it. Back at Crabtree Gas and Parts, he’d looked into the bed of Grif ’s truck and seen the toolbox and a blanket. And three gas cans. No one needed three gas cans.

  “You piece of shit,” said Henry. “There’s a little girl living in one of those houses. There’s a deaf and blind woman in the other, sleeping. What if they don’t get out? If you keep me here while they light those places on fire, Billy’s going to end up in trouble for felony murder.”

  “Fire?” said Ona.

  “I ain’t shifting,” Teak said.

  Ona clutched at Teak’s arm from behind. “Teak, they can’t mean to light them houses on fire with all of them sleeping?”

  Teak didn’t answer, and Henry said to her, “It’s better if we don’t know nothing, baby.”

  Ona said, “Teak, no. And what if my Nonny’s in there?”

  Henry started forward again, but Teak held up both hands.

  “Don’t, man. You think I like beating the piss out of family?”

  Ona tugged on Teak’s elbow from behind. “Nonny could be sleeping in that house. She’s your blood.”

  “Aw, crap. Lemme think,” said Teak. “I better ask Jimmy
what to do. Henry, sorry, man, but you ain’t going nowheres until I ask Jimmy.” To Ona he said, “Watch him and call me if he tries to go someplace.”

  Teak went back up the hall, and Ona and Henry stared at each other for a heartbeat. Then Ona cut her eyes at the open window and deliberately turned her back. Henry was moving as soon as she began to turn, climbing over the windowsill and dropping into the azalea bushes. He took off at a dead run.

  He didn’t bother heading back down Hook to Philbert. That was where Teak would come looking for him. Instead, he ran into the woods, cutting through the trees until he emerged in a cul-de-sac in Country Glen. He sprinted through the backyards, making a beeline for Mama’s house. He got to the other side of Country Glen and ran back into more woods, thin, filled with hiking tracks, mostly Georgia pine and some scrub.

  The air was burning his lungs. His feet pounded against the ground, and he could feel the tequila and the beer and the velvet potatoes sloshing around in his gut. As he came out of the woods onto Grace Street, he slowed. He was looking from Bernese’s house to Mama’s, his eyes flicking back and forth. But everything there was peaceful and still. Grif ’s truck wasn’t there, and Henry didn’t see Grif or Billy anywhere.

  He panted, trying to think like one of the Alabama Crabtrees, and that was when he heard the first booming explosions coming from the square. He started running again, up Grace this time.

  Three gas cans, three gas cans! He’d been stupid.

  They’d changed their plan and gone after Bernese’s store and the museum. Billy had thought it through, and maybe he didn’t want to set fire to a house if I was in it. More likely, though, Billy had switched targets because the Dollhouse Store was attached to Henry’s bookstore, and Henry had pissed him off.

  Henry ran as fast as he could, listening to the staccato bursts.

  He couldn’t figure out what the noise was. Something in the museum? In his mind’s eye, he saw the blue velveteen drape that hid Bernese’s dollhouse terrarium going up in flames. It would incinerate quickly, fusing to the melting plastic framework. He saw the glass cracking and then running down itself as it liquefied. The adult moths would flutter as they burned, and the heat would push the blackened tissue of them upward even after they had changed from animal to ash. He was seeing the plastic smile of the mommy doll peeling off and crackling as her head melted, and the flames touching the feet of the young girl doll with my face. In his mind, the popping noises were the cocoons of the luna moths, bursting in the heat, and he saw all the solid little caterpillars that Fisher loved, curling and uncurling as they burned.

  He sped up, his head aching where Teak had hit him, his pulse beating so hard through his body that he could feel it even in his eyes.

  As he neared the square, he could see an orange glow filling up the sky. He ran toward the center fountain. The Dollhouse Store was a mass of flames. The fire had already spread sideways to the wall of his bookstore. The bottom floor of Bernese’s store was engulfed, and as he watched, the flames were reaching from the wooden trim to lick at the brick storefront. Flames were creeping up the frame side to the roof, and the windows in the apartment above bowed inward from the heat. There was no getting in there, and as far as he knew, there was no reason to try.

  The museum was blazing, too. For the moment, it seemed to be mostly on the side closest to the store, but the museum house was all frame and gingerbread, so the fire was moving fast. He saw Isaac coming toward him across the square, wearing a plush burgundy robe. His pale feet were bare and veined in translucent blue. He hobbled across the grass, the light from the fire washing him in tones of rose and gold. He had a cell phone clutched to his ear.

  Henry hoped to God Isaac was calling 911 and not Bernese.

  He stared at the burning museum, glad at least that it was empty, and then he realized it wasn’t only the terrariums burning up. Almost all of my mama’s original dolls were in there, on display and stored upstairs.

  He turned away from Isaac and ran as fast as he could, directly toward the burning museum.

  CHAPTER 19

  AS JONNO EXITED the highway, I could see the lights of the fire trucks and police cars coming from the square.

  I was leaning forward, hands pressed into the dashboard as if I were shoving the Impala forward. From the top of my throat all the way to my stomach’s pit, my body buzzed and trembled. I felt like I was full of bees.

  “Pull over here,” I said as we reached the turn into the parking lot behind the church. There was no getting any closer. Before the wheels stopped turning, I was out of the car and sprinting down Philbert.

  The church was blocking my view of the museum and Bernese’s store, but I could see the orange glow of fire, and the rising smoke was like columns of darker black against the night sky, blocking out starlight.

  As I came around the corner, I could see that the museum and the Dollhouse Store were awash in flames. Half of Henry’s store was blazing, too. The firemen were working to put a water wall in between Henry’s store and the Sweete Shoppe; they weren’t trying to put out the fire so much as contain it until it burned itself out. A second truck was working on the museum.

  I looked wildly around, trying to find someone I knew. Strangers in uniforms and slick coats were bustling back and forth, anony-mous and busy, and then I saw the Marchants standing by the curb in their fluffy robes and slippers. They were holding hands.

  Their daughter, Ivy, was beside them, her hands clamped over her mouth as if her throat were also full of bees and she had permanently committed to not letting even one escape. I heard someone calling my name in a deep, croaking voice I did not recognize.

  I turned toward the sound and saw Henry. He was sitting on the floor of an ambulance parked on Philbert. His feet hung down over the back bumper. Both doors were open, and I could see an EMT behind him, digging in the equipment. Henry had an oxygen mask on, and his face and clothes were striped black with soot and ash.

  I ran up to him and said, “Oh, God, Mama’s dolls. Does she know? Where’s my family?”

  He pulled the mask off for a second and croaked out, “She’s somewhere here. She knows, but—” He broke off and started choking. He sounded awful. I pressed the oxygen mask back to his face.

  “I have to find her,” I said, crazed.

  But he grabbed my wrist. From behind the mask he said, “Listen. I was in there.”

  “The bookstore? Henry, I have to find Mama!” But he didn’t release me, and I noticed that under the ash and grime, Henry was developing a glorious shiner. “What happened to your eye?”

  He waved it off. “Teak happened. Screw it. Listen. You have to tell your mama.” He started hacking, and the EMT looked up from her equipment and said in a fussy, isn’t-he-cute tone, “Keep that mask on. Breathe deep.”

  Henry rolled his eyes.

  I glanced over at the burning store, putting it together. “Teak Crabtree is here? Teak did this?”

  “The animal dolls,” Henry said from behind the mask.

  “Wait, you mean you were in the museum?” I said. I stopped pulling away from his grip and listened.

  “I got a lot of the animals out. As many as I could carry. They are sitting in rows on Isaac’s sofa, creeping him right the hell out.

  I broke the case.” He coughed. “Isaac hates that grasshopper doll.”

  “Henry, does Mama know you got them?” I said.

  He shook his head, grinning. “Isaac was still talking with the cops.” He couldn’t stand not telling me, I could see it. He took a deep hit of oxygen and pulled the mask right back off. “It was like being on a movie set. I couldn’t believe I was in a room that was actually on fire. I had my T-shirt tied over my mouth—”

  “Fat lot of good that did you,” the EMT said. She was about my age, with a glossy cap of blond curls. “Please keep that mask on.”

  Henry obediently put the mask on for another breath and then said, “The sprinkler system came on—”

  “The insurance
company made us get that,” I said. “Bernese was furious. It cost a mint.”

  “It gave me time to get into the carousel room,” Henry rasped.

  “All the while I was hearing this banging noise, boom, boom, boom. No idea what that was. It sounded like they were making popcorn in hell.”

  “Bullets!” I said. “Bernese buys them by the case and keeps them at her store.”

  “Right. They scared the crap out of me, going off in long chains. I thought—” Henry’s gaze shifted off me, to the left, and he stopped talking abruptly. He wasn’t coughing; he simply stopped. All the animation leached out of his dirty face, and he became as bland and expressionless as a waxwork. When his eyes met mine again, it was as if whoever lived behind them had flipped a sign from OPEN to CLOSED.

  I looked over my shoulder and saw that Jonno had come up behind me. “Hey, man,” he said to Henry.

  Henry gave him a nod, not speaking, and pointed at the mask.

  “Hey, no, that’s okay,” said Jonno. “Keep sucking up the good stuff.”

  Henry nodded once, his eyes narrowing.

  Jonno said, “Nonny? I found your mama. Bernese brought her to sit down over near the Marchants. She’s ruined.”

  “I need to go talk to her,” I said to Henry.

  He nodded and said, “Yes, you do. Sorry I wouldn’t shut up.

  Go.”

  The EMT started to say something, but I had to get to Mama.

  I followed Jonno a few feet, ducking around two policemen. And then I saw her. She was sitting with Genny on the curb. Genny had both her arms around Mama and was holding her so tight, and Mama was rocking back and forth. Her eyes were squashed shut and her mouth was open and she looked like she was wailing, but she was silent.

  Bernese stood beside them. Her eyes blazed as brightly as her store.

  As I came toward them, Bernese looked up and saw me. “This was Crabtrees,” she said. “A whole slew of those Alabama Crabtrees. Henry told the cops. They already went and got two of them from over at Ona’s house.”