Covenant

by Ann McMan

  After they’d eaten their lunches in Fries—and Roma Jean had bought them each ice cream—they headed for their final stop of the day in Bone Gap.

  Roma Jean liked the Bone Gap stop the least of just about any place she went—except for the prison. Although she had to admit that the prisoners were often a lot more courteous than some of the patrons in Bone Gap—especially the ones who tended to hang out with Mrs. Black. It had been Mrs. Black and some of her followers who Roma Jean had heard whispering bad things about Miss Murphy and Dr. Stevenson. She worried again about the wisdom of bringing Henry along with her out here, especially if Mrs. Black showed up. She didn’t want the stern, judgmental woman to do or say anything to scare him.

  But Henry had been so excited about their adventure today that she didn’t have the heart to put him off—and she couldn’t change the route without giving the patrons more advance notice.

  Dorothy seemed to pick up on her nervousness.

  “Are you worried about something, Roma Jean?” she asked.

  “Not really.” Roma Jean tried to shrug it off. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because you keep looking up and down the road like you’re expecting someone.”

  “I guess I’m just tired and want this last stop to be over with.”

  “I see somebody coming!” Henry exclaimed from his seat up front in the cab. “It’s a car with lots of people in it.”

  Roma Jean took a deep breath. Henry’s “lots of people” ended up being Nelda Rae Black—of course—another smallish woman she didn’t recognize, and a man she did. Her heart sank.

  It was Charlie’s father.

  What was he doing out here in Bone Gap?

  Whatever it was, the fact that he was here with Mrs. Black couldn’t be good news.

  All three of them approached the truck.

  “Come back here and sit by me, Dorothy,” Roma Jean summoned the girl. “Stay up there in the cab, Henry, so there’s more room back here for the patrons. I’ll hand you any books you need to stamp and you can do them up there. Okay?”

  Fortunately, he agreed without argument. With luck, Mrs. Black wouldn’t see him.

  The unfamiliar woman made eye contact with Roma Jean, but didn’t say anything. She was busy stuffing some little brochures she’d brought along into one of the bookracks near the door. Mrs. Black began looking through back issues of Southern Living magazine. Charlie’s father—Manfred, she recalled—stood staring at her and plucking at some stray chin hairs.

  “You’re the gal I met at Charlene’s, ain’t you?” he asked.

  That got Mrs. Black’s attention. “What’d you say, Manfred?”

  “This here is the gal I told you about—the one gallivantin’ with Charlene.”

  Roma Jean felt Dorothy stiffen beside her.

  “Did you need help finding a book, Mr. Davis?” Roma Jean had no idea where her bravado was coming from. Inside, she was shaking like a leaf.

  “He don’t need no help from the likes of you, young lady,” Mrs. Black interjected. “It’s more like you need guidance from him.”

  “Not from him,” the other woman corrected. “From the Lord almighty.”

  “That’s right, Glenadine.” Manfred took a step closer to Roma Jean. She didn’t like the look in his eyes. He wasn’t like he’d been the other night, when she’d thought him tentative and harmless. Today there was no hint of politeness or hesitation in his demeanor. No trace of kindness, either.

  He looked downright menacing.

  Roma Jean made herself stand up. As scared as she was, she knew she had to take command of the situation. There was no way she’d let these people intimidate or threaten Dorothy and Henry. They were her responsibility. Right now, these people were probably on the verge of saying things the children didn’t need to hear. She had the right to ask them to leave before things got ugly.

  That had been one of the first things Miss Murphy drilled into her head after they got the bookmobile and took it out together so Roma Jean could learn the ropes.

  “If you are ever in a situation where you do not feel safe, leave,” Miss Murphy had told her. “Do not hesitate. And make sure you have your phone with you at all times so you can push the 911 button if you need help. No exceptions.”

  Roma Jean pulled her cell phone from the pocket of the work smock she always wore on the truck, and made sure Manfred could see it.

  “If there’s nothing else you folks need,” she said in the strongest tone she could muster, “I’ll kindly ask you to leave now. We don’t want to have any problems.”

  “I reckon we don’t, missy.” Manfred stared at Dorothy, then back at Roma Jean. “You ought not to be carrying on with my daughter—or anybody else’s kin, neither. It’s an abomination to God.”

  “Come along, Manfred.” It was the woman, Glenadine. “Shake the dust from your feet and leave this unholy place. We can do no good here. These people are beyond redemption.”

  “No one is beyond redemption, woman.” Charlie’s father cast his milky eyes heavenward. “The Lord God almighty can wash away the sins of even the worst sinner among us.” He pointed a crooked finger at Roma Jean. “Today if you will hear His voice, harden not your heart.”

  Roma Jean was undaunted. She took a careful step toward him. She wanted to put more distance between him and the children.

  “Mr. Davis, you need to leave now. I don’t want to call Sheriff Martin for help, but I will if you don’t go. Right now.”

  Her mention of Byron seemed to get his attention. She saw a muscle in his face twitch.

  He took the woman named Glenadine by the arm, and waved Mrs. Black ahead of them toward the door. Once they were outside, he turned and addressed her again.

  “The Lord hath said those that commit sins of the flesh shall not inherit the kingdom of God. Turn from this evil path before you experience the full force of His wrath.”

  “Come along now, Manfred.” It was Mrs. Black. “We got more of these tracts to distribute.”

  Once they’d gone, Roma Jean rushed over to close and lock the door to the bookmobile. Then she dropped to her knees because her legs had become too shaky to hold her up any longer.

  Henry had joined Dorothy, and they both rushed to her side.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay,” Dorothy insisted in a quiet voice. “You did great. You stood up to him. You made him leave.”

  Roma Jean put her arms around the children and hugged them close.

  “Who was that mean man, Roma Jean?” Henry asked.

  “Just someone who used to live here a long time ago.”

  “He was really scary.”

  “I know. But you were a very good boy to stay so quiet.”

  “I was afraid, but I knew you would protect us.”

  Roma Jean started to cry.

  “He’s right,” Dorothy told her. “You did protect us. You did. You stood up to him and made him leave.”

  Roma Jean sniffed and tried to clear her head. She didn’t need to make this situation any worse for them than it already was. They all needed to do something . . . normal—something that could defuse all the emotion and get their equilibrium back on track.

  She thought about the one thing that always worked for her in the past.

  “I have an idea,” she said. “How about we call it a day and go back to the caboose?”

  “We can get more ice cream?” Henry was incredulous.

  “Why not?” Roma Jean got to her feet. “Sometimes a double-dip is just the right thing.”

  She got no argument from Henry, but she noticed that Dorothy kept a watchful eye on her for the rest of the afternoon.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Rita arranged her trip to Waco to deliver a load of mirrors so she could spend the night in Killeen, near Fort Hood. James had been in Texas for more than a month now, and she was looking forward to seeing him.

  It had been a real loss for Rita when James reenlisted in the army. She’d always enjoyed the long hauls they’d done tog
ether. James had been quiet when it mattered, and talkative enough when it didn’t. Mostly, he didn’t ask anything of her, and she didn’t pester him to for details about gettin’ his leg blown off—like everybody else in town tried to do.

  They respected each other’s boundaries.

  James had been surprised when Rita texted him and said she’d be in town for an overnight. But he agreed to get together for supper right away. They were going to meet at a Texas Roadhouse right off the expressway. Rita was fine with that. Steakhouses were places that always had a lot of activity, but you felt okay about holding a table for a long time—if you were having a good conversation. And if all you really cared about was eating your steak and gettin’ on with the rest of your night, they were good for that, too.

  Plus they always had a big bucket of peanuts on the table, and shelling them gave you something to do if you or the other person weren’t in a mood to talk.

  She didn’t know what to expect from James. She knew how hard his decision to reenlist had been—especially because it meant leaving his boy. But he’d only been living half a life in Jericho, workin’ out at Junior’s and livin’ in that ratty apartment over the garage. And even though a lot of folks in town criticized him for leavin’ Henry with Doc Stevenson and her girlfriend, Rita understood why he had made that choice. They were good women who led decent lives, and they would be able to give James’s boy a kind of life he’d never have livin’ out at Junior’s in Troutdale.

  James had a lot of courage—and not just because he had to figure out how to live life all over again after losing his leg in Afghanistan.

  Hell. Rita had lost part of herself, too. But she didn’t have the gumption James Lawrence had—that stubborn drive to quit lickin’ his wounds, get up, and learn how to walk again.

  She just gave up. She didn’t pull herself outta her sorrow and try to start over. The best parts of her had died right along with Eva. She’d been wanderin’ around like some kind of zombie for ten years now. It was no wonder her life was such a wasteland of anger and disappointed hopes. Doing these long haul trips for Cougar’s gave her lots of time to think about all of that. To regret all the years she’d wasted feeling sorry for herself.

  The truth was, she wanted to change. She just didn’t know how.

  James was already at the steakhouse when she got there. There were lots of soldiers milling around in the parking lot or sitting on the benches outside the entrance, smoking. But she recognized James right away. He always had been a good-lookin’ man, and his camouflage uniform made him seem bigger. Taller, maybe. And more put together. It was like the part of him that had been missing had been put back in place.

  He waved when he saw her approaching and walked out to meet her. They had an awkward moment when they stood face to face. She could tell James didn’t know whether or not to hug her. Normally, that idea would never occur to Rita—but she just decided to go ahead with it. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. James hugged her back, and they stepped apart without saying anything about it.

  “You look good,” Rita observed.

  “You think so?”

  “Yeah. Tanned. Healthier, maybe.”

  He held the big wooden door open for her. “Probably the heat down here. Or maybe it’s because I’m outside most of the time.”

  “That’ll do it for sure. Sittin’ in the cab of a truck ten hours a day don’t do much for the complexion.”

  “You look just fine, Rita.”

  “Nah.” Rita scoffed. “You always did have bad eyesight, boy.”

  They got seated right away. James had suggested they meet up early for this reason. “If we wait until dinnertime, we won’t have a shot at getting a table without waiting more than an hour. Too many guys come in and hog all the tables, just eating wings and drinking cheap pitchers of beer.”

  “Can’t do that in my line of work. It just gives me gas.”

  “I remember.”

  Rita threw a peanut shell at him.

  “So, how you been, Rita? Things going okay at Cougar’s?”

  “It’s about like it was. Maybe a few more cross-country hauls in the mix, now.”

  “What brought you out here?”

  “Mirrors. I got a load of ’em to drop off in Waco at some place that makes retail stuff for houses and general construction. On the way back, I’m picking up a load of some kind of organic felt they use for insulation in mobile homes.”

  “That sounds like a long trip.”

  “Six days in all. I don’t mind. Gettin’ out of town is a good distraction right now.”

  “How come?”

  Rita eyed him. “Ain’t you a chatterbox today?”

  He smiled at her. His tanned skin made his teeth look extra white. He really was a good-looking man—especially when he smiled. Rita was sure he was gettin’ all the attention from the ladies he wanted.

  Although, looking around this Roadhouse, she figured the “ladies” around here might be on the pricey side.

  That’s how it always was around these military bases. The beer was cheap and the women, with some exceptions, weren’t.

  “I guess I just miss the local gossip. Henry doesn’t usually have many details about what’s happening in the community.”

  “You talk with him pretty regular, don’t you?”

  He nodded. “Every week. Maddie and Syd have been setting up the computer so we can have FaceTime chats. Sometimes, they sit in a bit, too—but just for a little while. They want to be sure Henry and me have a lot of one-on-one time.”

  “They’re good women.” Rita didn’t elaborate.

  Their server came and they gave her their orders. Rita was determined to treat James, so when he asked for a sirloin, she told the server to nix that and bring them both Ft. Worth ribeyes. When James started to protest, Rita cut him off.

  “No arguments,” she told him. “And bring the check to me,” she instructed their server.

  After the server—Cassie was her name—collected their menus and wandered off, Rita watched her make her way back toward the kitchen. James noticed.

  “She’s got a nice back yard, doesn’t she?”

  Rita thought about tellin’ him to mind his own damn business, but why bother? They were halfway across the damn country and nobody gave two rips about her out here.

  “Guess I ain’t dead quite yet,” she said.

  “Far from it. And you don’t need to be buying my dinner, either, Rita. You should be saving your money.”

  “Forget about it. This is a good-payin’ gig and I’m feelin’ generous. So make your peace with it and shut the hell up.”

  “I forgot how bossy you are.”

  “Well, now you remember.” Rita retrieved another handful of peanuts from the bucket.

  “Why don’t you get outta there, Rita? Start over someplace new where maybe you can meet somebody?”

  “Didn’t I just tell you to shut up about all that?”

  James nodded. “But neither of us is getting any younger.”

  Rita raised an eyebrow. “You takin’ your own advice, soldier?”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged. “But I didn’t reenlist to find companionship.”

  “Companionship ain’t what I’m lookin’ for, neither.”

  “What are you looking for, then?”

  Rita had to fight not to blurt out an answer to his simple question. What was she lookin’ for? Absolution? Forgiveness? Freedom from a wasted life full of nothing but regret?

  “Something different, maybe,” she said instead.

  She felt her words hang in the air over their table.

  James took a minute to reply. “So, how’d your interview go?”

  “What interview?” she shot back at him.

  “The inquest. Maddie told me they were interviewing everybody who was there that day. I just assumed you’d had yours, too.”

  Rita snapped the peanut she was holding so hard the shell splintered and skidded across the table.

&
nbsp; “Yeah. I had it. It was a waste of time—just like all them conversations. Nobody’s gonna do nothin’ about that man. He’s as dangerous dead as he was alive.”

  “You don’t think they’ll ever figure out what happened?”

  “It don’t matter if they do. Nothin’s gonna come out of it. Nothin’ good’s ever gonna come outta anything related to that waste of skin.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” James took a drink of his beer. “But maybe they can at least learn something that will help his daughter out.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  James shrugged. “Maddie and Syd both said she’s really struggling with what happened—that she thinks she was the one who killed him.”

  Rita hadn’t heard that. “I thought she was happier now, living out with Dr. Heller. Lord knows, she’s a whole lot better off.”

  “Yeah. I’m sure that’s true.”

  Rita wanted to leave it alone. She didn’t want to waste any more time thinking about Gerald Watson. But she hated that Eva’s daughter might still be suffering.

  It figured that man would find some way to torment the girl from the grave.

  “What makes her think she killed him? Everybody says he drowned by accident.”

  “I don’t know,” James replied. “I guess until they get the autopsy report showing anything different, she’s gonna keep on thinking she killed him by hitting him on the head with that driftwood.”

  “Well, even if she did, it wadn’t a crime. That man needed to get gone, and it don’t much matter how it finally happened.”

  “Yeah.” James nodded. “I think most folks would agree with you about that. Too bad for that little girl, though.” He finished his beer. “You want another one of these? And my treat for the drinks.”

  Rita nodded.

  Why the hell not? It had been a while since she’d let go and gotten good and drunk.

  She drained her glass. No time like the present.

  ◊ ◊ ◊

  Bert and Sonny were replacing the last of the boards on the garden side of Dr. Heller’s house. They were using HardiePlank, because Dr. Heller thought it looked almost as good as the original wood did. Or maybe as good as it once did, back in the ’20s when the bungalow-style house had been built. Most of the wood that was left on this side of the house was rotted clean through. They’d replaced all the insulation and tacked up sheets of heavy plastic to keep it covered until the shipment of HardiePlank finally came in from Commonwealth Supply in Roanoke.