by Brown, Dick
The next day Jerry came to her house after work. They sat at the kitchen where they usually had family discussions. It wasn’t pleasant, but Jerry finally gave his mother an ultimatum: it was either the studio apartment or a nursing home.
“Christmas is only three weeks away, Mom. Why don’t you come on over and share the season and the blessings of your grandchildren with the rest of the family?” Jerry pleaded.
“You tricked me,” Sylvia complained. “You planned to leave me all along and married that girl as your excuse. And now you’re feeling guilty. Well, you should.” Sylvia puffed up and crossed her arms.
“Her name is Ann,” Jerry said, trying to control his anger. “You can believe what you want, but you have to move out of this house before you burn it down with you in it. Red doesn’t say much, but you’ll like Alice. She’s looking forward to you moving in. You can get to know Ricky and Libby. They’re great kids. It’s the best thing, Mom.”
“They never wanted me around before. What’s changed?”
“They’ve always wanted to include you in the family, but you never gave them a chance. You didn’t go to our wedding, or Libby’s christening. You’re the one who refused to join the family. Look, I already have a buyer for the house. One of the guys at the warehouse has two kids and just had a new baby and needs more space. I promised he could have it before Christmas, sort of like a present for his wife and family.”
“How considerate, you think more of your friends at work than me. I guess I don’t have any choice now, do I?”
A moving van arrived at his mother’s house two days later. Sylvia never spoke to anyone during the moving process. Jerry and Ann helped unpack boxes, trying to sort out what could be thrown out or given to Goodwill. A box of old letters and high school memorabilia broke open and spilled out on the floor.
Ann sat on the floor with her legs crossed, looking through Jerry’s yearbook when she came across an inscription next to his picture. Written in beautiful flowing script, the writer vowed to love Jerry forever and wanted to get married and have a boy baseball captain and a girl cheerleader captain just like them. It was signed, “With all my love, Marilyn.”
“You never told me you were captain of the baseball team and dated the captain of the cheerleader squad.”
“You never asked,” Jerry said as he opened another box. “That was a long time ago. Come on, let’s keep working or we’ll never get through all this stuff.”
Sylvia spoke up from across the room, “I’ll bet he didn’t tell you he got her pregnant, did he?”
Jerry stood up and glared at his mother. “Apologize to Ann for that remark. It’s not true and you know it.”
“I’ll do no such thing. The girl needs to know the truth.”
“What is she talking about, Jerry?”
“It was nothing, just rumors. Her father lost his job and the family had to move away before she graduated. I never heard from her again.”
Ann pouted and looked to Sylvia. “Why would you say such a thing, Mrs. Blackmon? If Jerry said it didn’t happen, then it didn’t happen.”
“I knew you would take his side. That’s all right, I know the truth. But you, you’ll believe anything he tells you. I lost my son when he married you. But don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine out here by myself. I don’t need any of you.” Sylvia left the room in a huff.
“I don’t think she’s well,” Ann said in a concerned voice.
“Now you see why I had to get her away from the home and have her closer where I can keep an eye on her. She’s bitter because my dad left her and she had to raise me by herself. I’ve taken care of her ever since I was a teenager. When I was grown, as long as I paid the bills and came home every night to have supper with her, she was okay. But when we started dating, she got it in her head I was going to leave her just like Dad did. She has dwelled on it so long. She’s just bitter at the world. I’m sorry we didn’t have this discussion earlier. You had enough to worry about. I couldn’t risk losing you over it.”
Ann hesitated for a moment, gathered up her courage, and cautiously asked Jerry, “Was your girlfriend pregnant?”
“No. At least I don’t think so . . . Yes, we had had sex, but I was always careful. We dated for over a year. She wore my class ring and all that high school stuff.”
Ann stood up and wrapped her arms around Jerry. “Did you love her?”
“We thought we were in love. We were just a couple of kids. What did we know about love?”
She squeezed him tight until she trembled from the thoughts creeping into her head. The feeling of that night when she was standing outside her door with Rick washed over her body. Jerry may have a child he’d never know, just like Rick.
Fear gripped her as she wrestled with whether to tell Jerry about Rick being little Ricky’s biological father. She only broke up with him because her father and Sam thought he was Tank’s baby. Being here with her family, with a good job and nice house was all a lie. She broke Rick’s heart to live a lie. What would telling him accomplish? It could destroy their marriage. She wondered if Jerry had ever wanted to find Marilyn to learn the truth.
Still shaking, Ann pulled away from Jerry. “I need to go check on Libby,” she said, and then headed for the stairs.
“Don’t pay any attention to my mother,” he called after her, “she’s just a bitter old woman.”
But Ann had already disappeared down the stairs.
Livid at his mother, Jerry threw the door to her bedroom open so hard the door knob left a dent in the wall.
“What are you trying to do?” Jerry screamed at Sylvia, who was propped against her headboard with arms crossed. “Are you trying to break-up my marriage because you’re sick with jealousy? You will apologize to Ann, and I don’t ever want to hear you say anything else about Marilyn, do you understand?”
“Or what, you’re going to put me in an old folk’s home?. You’re just like your father. He never loved me. When you were old enough to take care of yourself, he left. Now that you have your own family, you’ve left me too.”
Taking slow, deep breaths, Jerry calmed down and sat on the edge of the bed. “I do love you, but you make it awful hard sometimes. I’ll always love you and take care of you. Nothing is going to change that. That’s why I wanted you to live here with us, so we can all be a family. You don’t have to be alone anymore while I’m at work. You have a family who’ll love you if you let them. Please, try to understand.”
Chapter 30
“After the war, Coastline Railway continued as Uncle Sam’s workhorse, hauling more mail and freight than any other line in the country.”
Basketball scandal
The investigative pieces by Rick on alleged gambling and point shaving on the N.C. State basketball team had raised a firestorm of protest across the state. Players were being questioned internally by their athletic departments. As a result of his articles and Candi’s photographs of players meeting with shady men of questionable character, the team’s performance had been negatively affected.
The big four (N.C. State, North Carolina, Duke, and Wake Forest) were untouchable in their fans’ eyes. They were the Atlantic Coast Conference premier teams that represented North Carolina on the national stage of college basketball. Loyal fans didn’t like the newspaper digging up dirt on their basketball heroes who brought national recognition to tobacco road as the cradle of basketball civilization. Because of their dominance of the game, the four schools were able to recruit anywhere in the country. Often times they didn’t have to recruit; outstanding high school players came to them because they wanted to play with the best. The slightest hint of scandal could hurt recruiting and their status in the national rankings.
Rick and the Raleigh Times Herald brought to light the questionable undercurrent that often flowed beneath the surface of highly-visible
college basketball programs. Rick had received hate mail and threats on his life from some fanatics.
Candi wasn’t immune to the outcry; she’d received her own share of hate mail. Her photos were graphic proof that something was going on.
Rick’s series of articles raised enough concern with the NCAA that they conducted an investigation of their own. If the allegations were true, it would wreck the season for the Wolfpack and become a legal matter for the courts. They would be eliminated from the national championship competition where they were perennial contenders. More than the loss of the chance of a national championship was the loss of revenue and scholarships. It would derail the successful talent train that had run down tobacco road as long as anyone could remember.
“What’s your threat count today?” Rick asked Candi over their regular morning cup of coffee in his office.
“I don’t bother to count or read them. It’s just the ranting of some idiots who think we’re Communist conspirators,” she replied, stirring her coffee. “I never thought I would ever be able to drink this stuff, but with enough sugar and cream, it isn’t half bad.”
“That rotgut coffee has kept me awake many a’night trying to finish a story on deadline. Speaking of story deadlines, I got some news from Wil. He’s established a working relationship with a Sheriff’s Deputy over in Forsyth County. It seems this deputy owed Wil a favor from back in their police academy days. He’s willing to poke around on the ’qt’ and see what he can find out about S & T Distributing Company. We may be able to blow Tank out of the water before he can win a second term if this deputy can find any evidence to tie Tank to what we believe is Sam’s illegal business.”
“You seem hell-bent on ruining a lot of people’s Christmas this year.” Candi set her coffee down and leaned on his desk with both elbows and looked him in the eyes. “You’re still carrying out that high school vendetta, aren’t you?”
“Maybe,” Rick said, and then turned his attention to some work on his desk. “What are we going to do during the holidays? You have plans to go to New York?”
“No, I thought I’d check out the Dixie Classics basketball tournament and see what I can pick up there.”
“Maybe we can combine a little pleasure with business.”
“Like what?” Candi glared at Rick. “Are you ever going to take me out on a real date? You know, get dressed up, pick me up at my apartment, and go to dinner or a movie, a concert maybe. I hear the Raleigh Ballet and Symphony Orchestra put on a pretty cool Swan Lake performance around this time of year.”
“Well, what do you know? Under that tough New York skin is a soft side of culture. You’re on. When we get back from Winston-Salem, I’ll get the tickets to Swan Lake and make reservations for dinner at The Farrington House. We can act like real people on a real date, and it might even be fun. Tell you what, I’ll even spring for dinner at Liberonis, a really good Italian restaurant in Winston.”
“You’ve got a date, Mr. Barnes. I can hardly wait.”
The annual Dixie Classics Basketball Tournament was in full swing at the Joel Coliseum. The tournament matched ACC teams with teams from other top conferences and drew thousands of fans every year from as far away as California, Michigan, and Georgetown. Parking was a nightmare, but Rick and Candi were able to get a good spot with their press badges.
Security and event personnel were everywhere. Neither Rick nor Candi thought anyone would risk being caught trying to rig a game in a national spotlight like the Dixie Classics tournament, but it was worth a shot.
With good seats in the Press section, they would watch for any suspicious or uncharacteristic performances by players that might change the course of the game at a critical point.
Behind Rick and Candi sat a loud and obnoxious North Carolina fan who had too much to drink. He jumped to his feet, spilling his spiked drink down Rick’s back when Carolina scored just before the halftime buzzer. Rick’s jacket and shirt were soaked. Rick and Candi stood, stretched, and proceeded to follow the crowd up the long flight of stairs to the restrooms on the concourse level. Rick followed the man to the end of the line that snaked around the corner to the men’s restroom. Candi joined the line for the women’s restroom which was even longer than the men’s.
“Meet you back here,” Rick said to Candi.
Rick lined up behind the drunk and tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Hi, my name’s Rick.”
The man turned and gave Rick a surprised look and replied, “Ronnie Gaines, pleased to meet you,” he slurred, wobbling on his feet.
“Look, Ronnie, I’m enjoying the game too, but I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t pour your drink on me every time the Tar Heels score, okay?”
“Well, hell, mister . . .”
“Rick. The name is Rick.”
“Okay, Rick, if you’re so upset about it, I’ll send your jacket to the cleaners. How does that suit you? Let’s swap coats right now.” Ronnie pulled his jacket off. “Here, take mine and I’ll clean yours and send it to you. What’s your address?”
Rick removed his wet coat and swapped with Ronnie and handed him a business card with his other hand. It was a pretty good deal for Rick. His was an old car coat leftover from college and Ronnie’s was a chocolate brown leather coat with silk lining. It was a perfect fit on Rick.
After leaving the restroom, he avoided Ronnie, who was weaving his way back into the coliseum for the rest of the game.
Rick waited for Candi outside the overcrowded lady’s room. When she finally came out, Rick said, “What do you say we get out of here? I haven’t seen anything unusual at any of the games so far.”
“Sounds good to me,” Candi chirped.
They left the Coliseum and found the temperature had dropped and the wind was bitter cold. Rick revved the engine of his red Corvair to get some heat going while he related the story about the drunk and the jacket swap.
“You sure picked a drunk with good taste. He won’t remember anything about tonight and will be wondering tomorrow morning where the hell he got your booze-soaked coat and what happened to his fine leather jacket.”
“I gave him my card. That’ll jog his memory. Too bad, though. It’s really nice. Ah, heat. Finally,” Rick said, rubbing his hands together in front of the dash vent. “How about we get some dinner at Liberonis and warm up? My buddy Keith Devry at the Winston-Salem Journal guarantees you’ll think you’re back in New York.”
“Great, I was getting tired of watching almost grown men running up and down the court, getting all sweaty just to try to put the ball through a basket. It’s totally a waste of time and energy, if you ask me. It’s more civilized than football, though. At least nobody deliberately runs into another player to get the ball back.”
“Okay, okay, I get it. You don’t like sports. I can’t believe I’m working with someone who hates the two sports I love most. I hope we can find some food we both agree on at Liberonis.”
Rick followed Keith’s directions, cruising through West End to downtown. He spotted a green awning that extended from Liberoni’s entrance to the curb.
A valet opened Candi’s door and helped her out of the low-slung car. Rick exited the driver’s side and handed his keys to the young man.
Rick checked Candi’s coat but kept his jacket on to cover his wet shirt. They were greeted by a heavyset but handsome Italian Maitre d’ with silver hair and matching mustache.
“Buonasera.” He greeted them with a warm smile. “This way, please,” he said in a thick Italian accent. With a slight bow, he extended his left arm with a starched napkin neatly draped over it, directing them to a dimly lit table with richly upholstered Victorian chairs.
“Your friend has good taste,” Candi whispered to Rick. The candle in the center of the table was romantic, but she had to squint in the soft light to read the menu and wine list.
A violin and accordion player strolled by their table, playing the theme song from the movie Romeo and Juliet.
“This is romantic,” Candi purred, absorbing the music and period decorations surrounding them.
Rick leaned toward Candi so he wouldn’t be heard by the couple at the table next to them. “Yeah, and really pricey too. What are you getting?”
“If Ben is paying for it, I’m getting something good.” Candi smiled, scanning the menu.
“I think I’m just going with the spaghetti and meatballs and a Bud.”
“Come on, you have to be kidding. Look at all the good food here. Treat yourself, for god’s sake. Here comes the waiter. Don’t worry. I’ll order for both of us.”
Rick leaned back in his seat. “Fine.”
“Good evening,” the waiter said. “I’m Geno and will be your server. May I start you out with some appetizers? We have—”
“Naw, we’ll just order dinner,” Rick interrupted him.
Candi kicked him under the table. “Excuse my friend. He was kidding. We’ll have the Eggplant Rollatini, please.”
“And may I recommend a Cabernet Meritage? It is our most popular wine.”
“Yes, that will be fine.” Candi smiled at Rick.