The Plan

by Kim Pritekel

  “Friend?” She was feeling a bit nervous, wondering if perhaps he’d found out about Toni. Though she hadn’t seen the woman since their morning together a couple of years before, she knew Toni was married to a judge who hung in similar circles as Jim. “Which one?” Though she never asked questions in their silent “no questions” agreement, it didn’t stop him.

  “Born to Edward Russell Landry and Emmaline Rebecca Landry nee Brannon, Eleanor Rebecca Landry.” He met her gaze, his penetrating. “These days better known as Miss Brannon.”

  Thoughts or concerns about Toni Potter flew out of her mind, and an image of Eleanor replaced it. She felt a slight hitch to her breathing. “Yes,” she said, matching the casualness in his tone. “We discussed this, Jim.” She glanced over at him.

  “No,” he said, laying the knife on the cutting board where he’d begun cutting celery stalks. “You lied to me.”

  “How did I lie to you?” she asked, knowing that was not true.

  “You said you hadn’t spoken to her in twenty some-odd years.”

  “No,” she said, holding up the mayonnaise-tipped butter knife. “I told you we hadn’t been friends in twenty some-odd years.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re splitting hairs, Lysette.”

  “Succinct on the stand gets your man. Isn’t that always what you’re telling me?” she said, returning her focus to making the sandwiches, even as her blood was beginning to boil.

  “Cute. Well, I have to say, since you’ve known this woman for so long, you had to know about her, yet you said nothing!”

  She started as his palm slammed down on the counter. “Jim!”

  “No. No, you let the woman teach our son. You let that woman make me think she was good people. You let that woman into our house!”

  “What are you talking about? Jesus! You’re making Eleanor sound like some sort of goddamn monster!”

  Without a word, he reached for his newspaper and unfolded it, revealing a file folder. Grabbing that, he tossed it onto the counter. “That’s exactly what she is.” With a steely-eyed glare, he left the room.

  ****

  To say it had been a rough night was an epic understatement. Long after her family had gone to bed, lights were out, and music turned off, Lysette had sat on the living room floor surrounded by police reports, court records, and newspaper clippings. Many tears and shocked whimpers later, she’d awoken curled up on the couch.

  Not ready to answer any questions, she’d quickly gotten herself and the pages that filled the file folder together and had readied for the day. Jim had not said word one to her that morning, and in truth, she was glad, as she had no idea what to say to him.

  Now she stood outside Eleanor’s classroom door, Eleanor inside and alone. It was the lunch period, and the kids were all in the cafeteria, Eleanor sitting at her desk eating a sandwich and reading a book.

  Lysette glanced into the window in the door for the third time, not entirely sure what she was waiting for or what she expected to change. Squeezing her eyes closed for a moment, she took a deep breath and opened her eyes, reaching for the doorknob.

  Entering the classroom, she shut the door behind her, taking longer than necessary with her back to Eleanor, who seemed to have changed her position as her chair squeaked. Lysette braced herself, then turned around, noting Eleanor was looking at her, a pleasant, welcoming smile on her face.

  “Hey there. No movies playing today.”

  Lysette made no response, her heart racing as she neared the desk. “Eleanor,” she said at length, standing before the desk where Eleanor still sat. “Did you do it?” she asked quietly.

  Eleanor’s smile morphed into confusion as she set the book aside and rested her sandwich on the dish it had come in. “Did I do what?”

  “Please, just be honest with me,” Lysette nearly whispered, pleading in her voice.

  Eleanor cleared her throat, sitting up straighter in the chair. She looked Lysette directly in the eye. “No.”

  Rather than feeling relief at the denial, Lysette felt anger and betrayal renewed. “Eleanor, I am asking you to be honest with me. Please. Did you do it?” Her voice was louder, a bit shrill as she felt a strange mix of panic and anger rising.

  “No,” Eleanor said again, her voice never losing the calm, even timbre.

  “Jim showed me the reports, Eleanor!” she boomed. “I saw the records, I saw the picture of you in handcuffs!” Angry tears stung her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but it only made more come. “After everything,” she begged. “All that we went through, all that you meant to me…Please don’t lie to me now.”

  Eleanor slowly rose from her seat, letting out a tired sigh, her eyes reflecting that exhaustion that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside. “I’m not lying. The answer is no.”

  The tears came hot and bitter as Lysette turned on her heel and hurried from the classroom, blindly finding her way out of the building.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Lysette’s lips were mere centimeters from Eleanor’s, both breathing entirely too hard to kiss. Their moans and heavy breathing were shared in a single space as they held on to each other, hips working together to bring them to an explosion of pleasure, which drew a loud cry from Lysette, pulling Eleanor’s climax from her as she stiffened beneath her, holding on to her in a painful grip, like an iron vise. As the waves of pleasure continued, she felt Lysette’s face bury in her neck, Lysette’s hips continuing to grind weakly against Eleanor’s thigh, which added continued pressure between her legs, making her gasp as a second, smaller wave hit her.

  Finally, Lysette lifted her head. She met Eleanor’s flushed face, smiling at the look of wonder she must have found there, because Eleanor felt as though she’d just been taken to the moon and back. She gave Lysette a goofy grin before Lysette lowered her head, leaving a lingering kiss on slightly opened lips.

  “I love you, Ellie,” she whispered against them. “I really do.”

  Eleanor hugged her tightly, her heart exploding as her lower body had just done. “I love you, too,” she replied, holding Lysette desperately to her that she could hardly breathe. Apparently, Lysette couldn’t, either, as she begged for mercy. Giggling, Eleanor released her. “Sorry.”

  Lysette moved off her; the blanket that had become tangled around them was fully pushed aside. Lying in her original position on her side, she looked down at Eleanor, who lay on her back. Though her breasts were bare, somehow it felt liberating, especially the way Lysette was looking at them.

  “That was really beautiful,” Lysette said, tracing random patterns on Eleanor’s stomach.

  “Yes, it was. I’m not sure exactly what we just did, but can we still do it in Paris?” Eleanor asked, hope in her eyes. She grinned at the giggle that question received. “What?”

  “You are too adorable, that’s what,” Lysette murmured, leaning down and initiating a passionate kiss that had them quickly breathing hard.

  Eleanor’s sense of propriety began to nudge her, as much as she wanted to hit the snooze button. After the kiss ended naturally, she reached up and caressed the side of Lysette’s beautiful face. “I need to get home,” she murmured. “I have to be up in a few hours.”

  “I know.” Lysette groaned before landing one final kiss on Eleanor’s lips.

  Ten minutes later, they were parked on Overton Road again, hands in hair as they kissed. Eleanor wanted to do what she’d done in the upstairs apartment again, her panties were so wet, but she knew she couldn’t.

  Placing her hands on Lysette’s shoulders, she gently squeezed, letting her know she was going to pull away. “I love you,” she whispered as their foreheads rested together.

  Lysette cupped her cheek. “I love you. See you tomorrow at school.”

  Eleanor nodded before she pulled completely away from Lysette and slid across the front seat to the passenger-side door, letting herself out. She held that beautiful gaze for a long moment before turning away, hiking off into the pr
edawn darkness to the farmhouse.

  ****

  Eleanor felt as though she’d just laid her head down on the pillow when her eyes blinked open. She lifted her head, a dull ache tapping at her skull. She knew it was a tired headache, too many nights without proper sleep, and the night before certainly hadn’t helped her case.

  “You bitch!”

  She had no time to consider her thoughts when her father stormed into her bedroom, roaring at her like a bear as he grabbed her by her nightgown and yanked her out of bed. She had no time to react or defend herself as he banged her against the wall next to the window. Her head lulled uselessly for a moment as she gripped his hands, trying to make him let her go.

  “Who did you tell?” he bellowed. “Who?”

  “Ed! Please, stop!” Emma begged, limping into the bedroom, her lip bleeding.

  “What did you say? Did you go to the cops?” Ed demanded, ignoring Emma’s pleading as he banged Eleanor against the wall again.

  She had no idea what he was talking about, her eyes nearly rolling in her head as he banged her again. “Please,” she said weakly. “Stop.”

  “It was you, I know it was you.” He threw her to the floor, looking down at her with disgust. “Gabby had to leave town this morning because of you. He’ll be back tonight, and you’re going with him. It’s over, Eleanor! No more school, no more Landon whore!” He picked her up by her collar and shoved her to her bed. “Get dressed and pack your things. This time tomorrow, you’re his problem.”

  Eleanor lay on the bed stunned, both by the violent attack and by what she’d been told. She looked to her mother, who stared at her from the bedroom doorway, eyes wide and looking just as stunned.

  “By the time I get back, you better be packed!” Ed bellowed from the top of the stairs before trotting down them, heavy work boots thudding all the way down before he shoved out the front door. Moments later, the sound of his pickup could be heard.

  Emma shook herself out of her fugue, and she hurried over to Eleanor’s bed and dropped to her knees. “We’ve got to get you out of here,” she said, voice hurried. She looked up at Eleanor, who stared stupidly at her from the bed, her own mind still gone. “Eleanor!” Emma exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Come on! We’ve got minutes.” She pulled out the small suitcase and plopped it on the bed. “Pack.”

  Eleanor watched Emma run out of the room, and it sounded like to the bedroom she shared with Ed. She shook herself out of her rude awakening and got to work. “We’ve got to get word to Lysette!” she called to her mother.

  The sound of opening and closing dresser doors stopped. “Yes, yes.” Emma appeared in Eleanor’s doorway again. “Write a note. Does that Howell boy go by the house?”

  Understanding what her mother was suggesting, Eleanor hurried over to her own dresser, grimacing as exertion of moving made the pain in her head so much worse. After a few seconds of work, she was able to grab her diary from behind it. She flipped to a blank page and ripped it out. Using the pen next to her Bible to scribble a quick note, she explained everything she could of what was happening. Folding it up, she bolted down the stairs and across the yard toward the Howell house. She knew Jethro fed the animals in the morning.

  “Hey!” she called out, just as he was about to toss a pail of feed to the chickens that strutted around the yard.

  Looking over at her, he raised a hand. “Hey. Where did your shoes go?”

  Confused, she looked down. It was only then that she realized she was in her nightgown and bare feet. “Long story. Listen, you know who Lysette Landon is, right? At school?” she asked, praying with everything she had that he knew at least of her.

  A goofy grin spread across his lips. “Yeah. What fella doesn’t.”

  She was in too much of a hurry to be annoyed. She shoved the note into his hand. “I need you to give that to her, Jethro, okay? I mean, the second you see her, give it to her. Okay?”

  “Yeah, okay,” he said, looking down at the folded paper. “You okay?”

  She gave him a weak smile before turning and running back home, frozen morning ground on her bare feet be damned. As she ran the half mile back to the house, she saw her father’s truck pull back into the yard.

  “Oh, god,” she whispered, moving to hide behind the outhouse. Hand resting on the rough wood, she peeked around the small building, watching.

  He held the same clear bottle he’d had at Christmas and that she’d seen more and more in the months since. She knew it was Gabby’s influence on him, making him a meaner son of a bitch than he was before, and she didn’t think that was possible. It was like Gabby brought the worst out of him.

  “Eleanor,” he bellowed, climbing the front porch stairs. At the top, he uncorked the bottle and took a swig, his body shaking as the potent alcohol went through him.

  Once he’d disappeared inside, she scurried from the outhouse to his truck, peeking through the window. Sure enough, and as usual, the keys were dangling from the ignition. She studied the steering wheel and gearshift, trying to decide if she could drive it. Would it be any different than Davis’s car?

  “Eleanor!”

  She gasped. As quietly and quickly as she could, she opened the passenger-side door, snagged the keys, and didn’t even bother to close the door all the way for fear it would make too much noise. Maybe if they waited him out, he’d pass out and she and her mother could take off.

  She tiptoed her way up the stairs and back into the house, hiding the keys in her hand as she had nowhere to put them, no pockets in her nightgown. She looked around for somewhere to hide them when she heard a crash upstairs and her mother cry out in pain.

  “You told her to leave, didn’t you!” Ed demanded, his words punctuated by what sounded like brutal slaps. “You went against the words of your husband!” Another crash.

  Eleanor was about to run upstairs when her parents appeared at the top of them, Emma held in a headlock. She was tugging uselessly against Ed’s arm that was wrapped around her neck as she gasped for air. When he saw Eleanor standing at the bottom of the stairs, he threw Emma aside and bounded down to her.

  “Where were you, you little bitch?” he growled, the full force of his anger seeming to be leveled at her.

  It took everything in her power not to back up or run right back out that front door. She considered the keys she held in her hand, wondering if she could do enough damage to get them out of there.

  He smirked when she stayed put. “Think you’re real big, don’t you?” he asked. “Think you’re better than me. Think you’re better than Gabby, hanging around your rich whore of a friend.”

  She was stunned, never in all her sixteen years hearing him talk like that. “No, Father,” she said quietly, wanting to try to get him to calm down and realize she wasn’t a threat of whatever kind he was convinced she was.

  “Liar,” he said, voice low and dangerous, the putrid smell of hooch washing over her face.

  She gasped as he let loose a brutal slap, which made her head whip to the side as she staggered backward. Her hand came up to rest on a heated cheek as she looked at him with wide eyes.

  “I saw your mother was packed, too. You talked her into leaving me, didn’t you?” Another slap, which sent her into the wall. “You think you two are leaving?”

  Ed grabbed Eleanor by the throat and held her against the wall with one hand as he used the other to grasp the neckline of her nightgown. With an absolutely evil grimace of exertion, he yanked, the loud sound of ripping material filling the small space between them, as well as the sound of her snapped chain and cross tinkling against the wood floor.

  She cried out in shock as suddenly her breasts were exposed. She tried uselessly to cover herself, but that seemed to enrage him as he roughly pulled her away from the wall by her neck, whirling her around and shoving her down over the back of the couch, holding her in place by the back of her neck.

  “No! Father, no!” she cried, desperately trying to stand up or move away from him, but h
e was far too strong. The tears came hot and fast when she heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled and pants unbuttoned and unzipped.

  “Ed!”

  Still pressed into the couch, Eleanor had no idea what was happening behind her. All she knew was the pressure against her neck lightened just a bit and he’d stopped fidgeting with his pants. A moment later…

  BOOM! BOOM!

  Still bent over the couch, Eleanor cried out in surprise and fear. She felt the vibration on the floor as a loud thud hit behind her, her father’s touch on her gone. Standing up, she turned to see her mother standing there, her father’s double-barreled shotgun in her hands, still aimed at a man who no longer stood.

  Heart pounding and chest heaving, she turned to see her father lying where he’d fallen, a hole blown into his chest and his left shoulder and upper arm blown off.

  Bringing a hand up to wipe at her tear-streaked face and push her mass of hair out of the way, she absently reached for the tattered ends of her nightgown as she turned to her mother, slowly walking over to her, as if in a daze.

  “Mama,” she whispered. “You can put the gun down now.”

  Emma slowly lowered the gun, blinking several times as she met Eleanor’s gaze with wide eyes, though she said nothing.

  “I think we better leave,” Eleanor said, swallowing hard. “Let’s just go.”

  Emma nodded, taking what seemed to be the first breath since she’d pulled the trigger, the scent of gunpowder and blood heavy in the air.

  “Ed! Ed, you okay?” was yelled from outside, the voice getting louder and closer. “Emma?”

  Eleanor’s heart stopped. “Mr. Howell.”

  “Ed, answer me!”

  Eleanor turned back to her mother, who was staring wide-eyed at the front door. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second, then with gentle hands, tried to take the shotgun from her mother. “Let go, Mama,” she said softly as Emma’s hands fell limply to her sides as Eleanor took the weapon. Their gazes met; Emma’s filled with terror as Eleanor gave her a small, sad smile. “They won’t hang a sixteen-year-old girl.”