by Eden Connor
His long-time friend slapped his keys into his hand. "I'll cancel the tow, since it's you." Dan curled his fingers around them, silently waiting. Reese's mirrored shades seemed to form a wall between the two old friends. Reese turned his back and Dan took deep breaths, trying to calm his anger before he did something stupid, like punch out a cop in full view of eight more. Striding to his vehicle, he waited in the hot interior, watching Reese stalk right past Colton. Cranking the big motor, Dan gunned the engine, flipping the air to high. Drumming his thumbs on the top of the steering wheel, he waited, trying to think what to do. He saw Eric rush up to his brother, following Colton's long strides toward Dan's truck.
Someone yanked open the passenger door. "What the fuck happened?" Colton demanded, sliding onto the bench seat.
"I'll meet you at the hotel," Eric said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "I'm gonna go ask questions across the street. Someone must've seen what went down." He snarled, pointing toward the men marching in a circle, their identities concealed under a garment that had once struck terror in the hearts and minds of every black person living in the South. Do they still? Dan had no idea. For that matter, it was news to him the Klan still existed. He stared at their white garb in disbelief. They strutted around in a circle. One of them was using a megaphone, but Dan didn't give a fuck about anything they might have to say.
"I wouldn't ask that white trash dancing around in bed sheets a motherfucking thing," Eric spat.
Dan looked at Colton. Eric slammed the door and dodged the light traffic to cross the street. He fit the key into the ignition and cranked the motor, easing the truck into gear. "Wow. There are times Eric really surprises me." He'd expected Eric to find this amusing and poke fun from the sidelines, not get involved.
Colton was too upset about Lila to comment on Eric. "Let's hurry up and grab those goddamned tubs. I want to go to the jail and ask when the magistrate will show up. I can't believe I can't get her out as soon as she's booked." Colton drove his fist against the door, turning to glare at Dan. "And what was the deal with Reese? I thought you and him went way back?"
Suddenly, Dan knew what the phrase Eric had used in his kitchen meant. Once you go black, you can never go back. It meant this small-minded town would never look at Dan again the same way for dating a black person. No. It meant certain white people in this town, some of whom were standing at the doors of the church every time they opened, would never look at him the same way again. Mostly the older ones, he decided. Those who could recall the time when the entire South had been segregated. Times he'd heard his grandfathers talk about. But the De Marcos had used migrant labor for decades and a lot of those had been black workers. His grandfathers had treated them all the same. The camp he'd repaired had been built to house them by his great-grandfather, so they had a decent place to live while they worked, not only in the family's orchards, but for the surrounding peach farmers too. His grandfather Chapman's diaries were full of horror stories about the conditions found in other migrant camps. Man gives you the respect of turning in an honest day's work, he deserves to be treated with respect in turn, Nance Chapman had written in his diary.
When Rafe opened the garage, the first person he hired had been Tim Mason. That memory reminded him of Georgia's shocking revelation and he did not want to think about that right now. It felt as though everything he thought he knew had either shattered or caved in on him in the last sixteen hours.
"I guess Reese is a closet racist." He waited for a break in the traffic crossing the train tracks before slamming the truck into reverse. Backing onto the sidewalk, he parked under the block and tackle.
Colton snorted. "He didn't look too damn closeted to me. From what I saw, he's out loud and proud about that."
"I called him the other day, asking about a problem Cynda's having with some guy. He told me it would be a 'low-priority crime'. The current sheriff doesn't care much when blacks take advantage of other blacks, according to Reese."
"You seem to care about Cynda."
Dan didn't know how to respond to that. "Yeah, I think I could." He studied his baby brother. "Sounds like it could cost us some business."
"We can always learn how to fucking grow peaches," Colton retorted heatedly. "Who needs customers who try to dictate who we sleep with? I'm fucked with that myself. Lila will hardly go to the mall with me anymore. Seems every time we do, someone's trying to judge her for getting past what happened to Pete." He clapped Dan on the shoulder. "You need backup when you go see about Cynda's problem, you let me know. I don't know if you realize it, but you've been smiling all day. You never smile for no reason."
He wasn't sure yet how he felt about Cynda, but he loved his brothers. He smiled again.
"See?" Colton said, flinging open the door. "You're doing it."
"I was actually thinking about Jonah," Dan admitted. "He's gonna give Lila hell about this."
He turned to look out his window, relieved to see Eric jogging their way. They congregated around the back of Dan's truck. "Okay, from what the people I talked to saw, Cynda was behind the wheel and Lila jumped out of the truck. Went tearing across the courthouse lawn and started arguing with one of the Klan. Cynda tried to get her to leave. There were a couple of cops circling the block and they stopped to arrest Lila. Dunno why Cynda got arrested. No one saw her do anything except try to get Lila to walk away from the confrontation. She seems to be guilty of being black at a Klan rally." Eric grinned but Dan saw the amusement didn't reach his brother's eyes. "One or two folks want to buy Lila a drink when she gets out of jail." He patted his shirt pocket. "I have names and addresses."
"They might wanna buy her a pillow so she can sit down." Colton sounded like he spoke through gritted teeth.
Eric howled with laughter. Dan had to join in. "I mean it," Colton vowed. "Let's get these damn tubs and get out of here."
"Yeah, let's get these tubs and put them where she wants. That'll teach Lila a lesson," Eric said through his laughter, leading the way into the lobby.
Chapter Sixteen
Colton and Dan doled out the food they'd discovered in the back floorboard of Dan's truck. Eric flipped channels on Colton's television.
"Where's Lila? And why didn't Cynda come for lunch? I count enough plates for her to have one." Jonah dragged a barstool from under the bar facing Colton's kitchen and hopped onto it. Dan and Colton shared a look Dan figured was most often seen on deer facing bright headlights.
"She went to jail, little man," Eric stated.
"Jail?" Jonah looked over his shoulder at Eric then turned to look at Colton. "I thought the doctor said she couldn't drive until after her appointment on Monday?"
Eric put down the remote and came to stand behind Jonah. He put both his hands on Jonah's shoulders in pretense of a massage but pinched those tender nerves in the kid's shoulders hard enough to make Jonah howl. "You know how Lila's on a mission to stamp out stupidity?"
Jonah nodded emphatically, jerking away from Eric, who dragged out the adjacent barstool and sat next to him. "Well, she's graduated from me and you and Reggie Martin. She took on the Ku Klux Klan today."
"What's that?" Jonah demanded, grabbing for a takeout box. "It sounds like a cable shopping network. Or a rock band."
"It's a hate group." Colton seemed to have found his voice.
Jonah's mouth fell open and his eyes went wide. "You mean, like a gang?"
Jonah's Los Angeles upbringing is showing, Dan thought. "Yeah," Dan joined in. "Like a gang. Cynda's in jail with her."
"Who do they hate?" Jonah persisted, looking bewildered.
"People like Cynda."
Jonah's eyebrows climbed his forehead. "Oooh, that explains it. No wonder Lila got fired up, if they hate women." He cracked a grin as he peeled the plastic off the packaged silverware. "How many of 'em did she take down, Uncle C?"
* * * *
Cynda leaned against the wall with her legs hanging over the edge of the steel bunk, kicking off the hideous orange flip-flops s
he'd been forced to trade her pretty white sandals for. Rubbing at the ink left in the ridges of her fingertips, she glared at Lila. The small cell held four, but so far, only the two of them occupied the space. The thin blanket was so scratchy, it pricked her right through her dress.
"Why? Why is it some people—and by some people, I mean you—go way off the deep end trying to prove they're not prejudiced? For heaven's sake, no one thinks a thing of those Klan fools anymore."
Lila didn't answer. She was looking around the space. Murderously, Cynda wondered whether she was thinking about how they ought to redecorate. Her wrists still throbbed from the tight handcuffs. Lila's fairer skin showed no marks, even though the same cop had cuffed them both. "I mean, if you did that to impress me, you fucked up big time. I'm a kindergarten teacher, or I wanna be one. How the hell am I gonna get a teaching job with an arrest on my record?"
"Last I heard," the blonde finally replied, "they only count convictions against you, and we haven't been convicted. Besides, I'd think you'd be pleased to have a conviction for civil disobedience at a Klan rally on your record. I know I will be."
"Oh my Lord, you're tellin' me I'm stuck in here with you for forty-eight hours and you plan to spend the time telling me you know what it's like to be black?" Cynda crossed her arms beneath her breasts, glaring.
"I don't have a clue what that's like," Lila retorted in a scathing tone. "But I know this. I know the last time I saw those clowns hold a public rally, I was pregnant with my son Charlie. My baby's in Afghanistan right this minute, fighting the same damn thing—violence that stems from fear and ignorance. Somehow, almost twenty-two years later, I'm pregnant again and they're still marching around in their sheets. All I could think was how could I do less than my son? I thought"—she blinked rapidly—"I thought maybe the mistake I made that day was staying on the other side of the street." Tears spilled from her eyes and her hands clutched the edge of the bunk opposite Cynda. "I didn't really think. I'm just hormonal. And pissed off. Charlie hasn't called home in months and I'm not supposed to be able to get pregnant and I don't know what to do about either of those things. But I can tell off an old farmer who oughta have better sense than to put one of those sheets on a child. So, that's what I did." She wiped at her eyes.
* * * *
"What was in those diaries, Uncle Dan?"
His brothers looked up from squabbling over Lila's serving of banana pudding. Dan had already laid claim to Cynda's. "What diaries?" Colton asked.
"I found—well, Cynda found—Mom's diaries."
"Really?" Colton lost his hangdog look for the first time in hours. "What was in them?"
"What fucking difference does it make?" Eric demanded. "Tear me out a few pages. I heat my house with wood, remember? Ought to make good fire starter. I'm outta here," he said, shoving away from the bar. The scraping sound his barstool made against the tile reminded Dan of the sound Lila's truck made when the roof collapsed. Hell, it felt as though his entire world was collapsing and the roof of Lila's truck had just kicked off the parade.
"If you find her, tell her I said 'fuck you, bitch.' You two are stupid. She could've come back any time, but she never did. Not one birthday, not one graduation. Not even a fucking phone call. That tells me everything I need to know. It was bad enough watching Dad grind his guts out over her, but the way you two carry on about her pisses me off. She broke his fucking heart when she left, and you're all excited to read her excuses for leaving?" He took long strides to the front door, cutting through Colton's empty dining room.
Colton's eyes were intent on Dan as the door slammed. "I want to know," he said quietly. "Have you read it?"
Dan darted a look at Jonah, shaking his head. "Squirt, you're on kitchen patrol," Colton said promptly. "As soon as I eat this last bit of pudding and get back from town, I'm going down to Dan's."
"Okay." Jonah's placid response surprised Dan. "I'm gonna look up the Klix Ku Klan on the internet."
"Do I want that in his head?" Colton asked, not bothering to correct their nephew.
"Why are you going back to town?" Dan asked. Unfortunately, just by living here, Jonah would eventually learn about the Klan.
"Because Lila's sitting in jail, worried there won't be roses from her on Pete's grave today. I gotta take care of that first."
* * * *
"You're pregnant?" Cynda repeated dubiously.
Lila looked miserable but she nodded.
"Not to be rude, but that's a lot of time between young'uns."
"No joke. It gives new meaning to the term 'generation gap'. I don't know what to do. I'm too old to start over changing diapers. Then there's the whole drama yet to be faced about Colton thinking he's sterile because of a late case of the mumps."
Cynda felt her eyes grow wide. "Colton's not your baby daddy?"
Lila sat up so fast she hit her head on the bunk above. Rubbing the spot, she snapped, "Just when I thought there wasn't a word I hated more than 'widow'. Of course he's my baby daddy." She shuddered elaborately. "I asked the doctor. He says Colton's little swimmers just learned how to swim again. Lucky me." She huffed. "Every time I close my eyes, I see sperm in little boats wearing life jackets yelling, 'There's the beach, boys! Row harder. We're goin' inland'."
Cynda hadn't expected to find anything to laugh about in jail.
"Quiet in there!" the corrections officer yelled.
"Oh, bite my ass," Lila muttered. "What're you gonna do, put us in jail?"
"Lila," Cynda whispered. "Hush up, you're gonna get us in trouble."
She rolled her eyes. "Cynda, I'm forty-one and somewhere between three weeks and three months pregnant. I don't have insurance. I have no clue how Colton's going to react to the happy news he's about to be my baby daddy. My husband's only been dead a year and my ogre-in-law will go right off the deep end if I keep this baby. Of course, she and her entire church would probably burn a cross on my lawn if they found out I had an abortion, so trouble"—she waved a hand—"is a relative term."
Cynda laughed again, throwing up a middle finger at the next yell from the CO. Lila threw up two.
"You need to tell that poor man," Cynda scolded. "He thinks you have cancer."
"He might wish I did have cancer when he finds out," Lila said morosely.
* * * *
Dan divided the dairies randomly into two piles, handing a stack to Colton.
"I had no idea there'd be so many. I thought there was just one," Colton stated, scooping up his stack and stretching out on the sofa before opening a cover. "Hey, this one's from the year I was born."
Dan swiveled his chair to face his brother, sliding down to get comfortable in his seat. He wondered how Cynda and Lila were getting along. Were they in a cell together? Was Cynda scared? Before opening a diary, he looked past Colton, out the window. The oak trees on the far side of the garden were still green, but he saw few amber-toned leaves. Winter would be here before he knew it. He pictured Colton, Lila, and Jonah cuddled on the new sofa Lila had bought, laughing. They laughed a lot.
He superimposed an image of Lila looking pale and bloated from chemo, and Colton hovering, looking tired and drawn and Jonah withdrawing to his room in confusion.
It just can't be. Dan resolved again to figure a way for Colton to care for her, if the worst happened. That reminded him of his promise to Cynda. Giving the loan shark nineteen grand was extreme, but what other choice was there? What if she took the cash and disappeared from his life?
Women stick to the men that stick to them. Did she mean that? Did she see him as a guy worth sticking to? Or was she simply playing along with his demands, worried about the money she needed and hoping to get it from him one way or another?
He flipped open Cammie's last diary. Perhaps he needed to find Cammie's first one, to see what made her choose Rafe to begin with.
Hours passed. They got up to refill their tea glasses, but the brothers didn't talk much. Dan was reading the diary from 1984 word-for-word, hoping for some insight,
though he figured he'd go back and read them from the beginning eventually.
"Jesus Christ, I never knew Mom and Dad were so… kinky," Colton burst out. "Did you know he spanked her? And she liked it?"
"I saw him do it once," Dan admitted. "But that time wasn't foreplay. He was pissed."
"About what?"
The day was burned into Dan's memory. Cammie had been polishing her beloved silver in the kitchen. Dan had volunteered to clean the caked polish out of the crevices of an elaborate vase with a toothpick, an honor denied Eric, who'd been angrily ramming his toy trucks into the legs of the barstool Dan perched on. Dan remembered it well because he'd been so pissed off at Eric for being such a pain in the ass and spoiling Cammie's good mood when he'd been plotting to try and talk her into agreeing to speak with Rafe about the pony he'd wanted so badly. Then Rafe had burst into the kitchen and Dan had never gotten the chance.
"Camille Chapman De Marco, is there something you want to tell me?" There'd been something in his hand, but Dan hadn't recognized it. Cammie had. Whatever it'd been made her turn white as a Klansman's sheet.
"Daniel, take your brother and go upstairs, right now," she'd ordered.
"No, Camille. You take Eric upstairs and put him in his room. Daniel's old enough to watch what happens when his mother lies outright to his father."
Then he'd gone to the barn for the bolts and removed those hooks, taking his time fastening the hall tree to the wall while Cammie sobbed, but Rafe hadn't wavered. "How could you, Camille? How could you take those pills?"
"Some kind of pills he didn't want her taking. Diet pills, I guess."
"Seems extreme."
Not if you used spanking as foreplay, Dan thought. Cammie made several references to that in the diary Dan was reading. Rafe had been into rough sex, spanking, and bondage. Cammie too, apparently. Reading these was like looking into a mirror. No, it's like looking into the heart of the woman I've been unable to find.