by Lori Leger
“Lost, like in the recipe?” Bess asked.
“No ma’am. She didn’t know where she was. She walked right out of the house. I got a phone call from the Sheriff’s Department. A deputy who’s known her all his life picked her up walking along the highway. He brought her home, but she was hysterical because she didn’t recognize the place even though the deputy insisted it was her home. Meanwhile, the dishtowel she’d dropped near the lit stove burner had caught on fire.” He looked up at Cynthia’s horrified gasp. “Luckily, the smoke alarm had already wakened Pop. He was still trying to put out the fire when the deputy arrived with mom.”
Cynthia covered her mouth with one hand. “Oh my gosh. That could have been—”
“Yeah, so much worse than it was, but it was the turning point. Once mom was herself again and we told her what happened, she insisted we bring her someplace.”
Bess sniffed and reached out to place a hand on J.D.’s arm. “I’m so sorry. I hadn’t heard. It must have been difficult for her to leave the home she’s been so happy in all these years. It had to break her heart to leave you, J.D.”
His head drooped forward. “I’m not going to sugar coat it. It was a hellacious day. Only day tops it was the day we lost Jenna.” He slapped his thigh suddenly. “But, at least I know I can see Marilee. She may not always know me or even who she is, but she usually lets me sit and talk with her. And sometimes she does know us, for a bit.”
He shrugged at the woman who’d called his wife a friend for so long. “When I start to feel sorry for myself, I think of friends I’ve lost, like good old Ham, and my daughter-in-law, Bethie, and how young she was when Johnny and Zach lost her. It has a way of putting things into perspective for me real quick.”
Cynthia sniffed and blinked back a tear. Here was this wonderful man, losing a little more of his wife every day, but still finding a way to see the glass half full. She reached across the table to squeeze his hand. “You’re a good man, Mr. J.D., a really good man.”
He met her gaze, his eyes misting for a moment before he shook his head and gave a low grunt. “I could have been better, little lady. I can promise you. But, as far as Marilee is concerned, I’ve tried never to disappoint her. Hopefully, I succeeded.”
Bess dabbed at her eyes and sniffed delicately. “You did, J.D. Your wife adores you, and always has. She’s bragged on you for years.”
He cocked his head. “Had she? Don’t know if I knew that.”
“Absolutely. She always said you spoiled her for any other man. Ham begged her once to stop. He said you were making it difficult for the rest of the men in town to measure up.”
He issued a low chuckle. “I tried my damnedest, Bess. I’m glad she felt spoiled all these years. It wasn’t so easy the first several years we were married. But, she never complained, even during the lean years. Marilee looked at everything as though it was a new adventure.”
John Michael crooked his neck, gave Cynthia a sidelong glance. “Speaking of adventures, how would you like to catch a movie in Lake Coburn tonight? The new WWII flick looks interesting.”
Her eyes lit up. “I’d love to. I love movies. I’ll sit through anything. A big screen with surround sound, a small popcorn, a bottle of water, and I’m a happy camper.” She checked her watch. “What time?”
“There’s one at seven o’clock I think we could make, but I’d have to bring Pop home right now and double back to get you.”
Bess sat forward. “I can bring him home so you don’t have to. Or better yet, leave him here and pick him up on your way home. I don’t mind having him around. We can catch up or watch some TV.”
John Michael’s brow arched in question as he turned to his father. “Pop, you okay with that? If not I can bring you home now and we can catch the seven-thirty feature instead.”
His father shrugged. “If Bess can stand me for a few hours, I don’t mind sticking around. You two go on and have some fun that doesn’t include babysitting your old parents.”
Bess pointed a finger at him. “Speak for yourself, J.D. I’m not old. I’m matured, like a fine wine.”
J.D. lifted one hand. “My mistake, Bess. You go ahead and call yourself mature. I don’t have a problem with calling myself old. I earned every one of these gray hairs.”
Cynthia pushed back from the table. “You want me to clear these dishes and load the dishwasher before I go, Mom?”
“No, no! You two get on outta here. J.D. and I can clean up.”
Mr. J.D. nodded and waved his hand. “That’s right. We got this covered.”
“You sure, Pop?”
J.D. raised an eyebrow at his son. “What did I say?”
John Michael lowered his head in an obvious attempt to hide a grin. “I hear you. We’ll leave as soon as Cyn’s ready to go.”
Cynthia touched his arm softly as she turned. “I’ll only be a minute, John Michael, and then we can head out.”
John Michael exchanged a look with Cyn when the man seated three rows in front of them answered yet another phone call. Grumbles and comments from those seated around him had gone unheeded, or worse, answered with a crude return. Patience had gotten him nowhere with this jack-ass, and John was at the end of his rope. “Inconsiderate son of a—” Remembering his manners, he left the rest unsaid. He let it go another few seconds until the guy had the nerve to laugh loudly at whatever he heard over the phone, despite his girlfriend’s repeated efforts to shush him.
John rose from his aisle seat and took two long steps to the big mouth, and stood staring down at him. “Hey. You’re gonna have to get off of that phone, buddy. The rest of us came to enjoy this movie.”
The young guy looked up. “You need to calm down old man. This is important.”
Old man? John’s hands fisted as he leaned over, ready to show him what kind of damage an old man could do. Before he could say anything, Cyn spoke up.
“Excuse me, but there are rules we’re all supposed to follow in here. Why is it you think the rules don’t apply to you?”
The man swung his head around to check her out. John Michael’s gut clenched as the punk licked his lips and gave a primal grunt. He spoke into the phone. “Hold on, a-ight? Got a ho here wid a big mouth an’ a old man ‘bout to get himself busted up.”
John’s icy comeback cut through the grumbles from nearby patrons. “You’re going to apologize to this lady, and then go outside to finish your phone conversation so the rest of us can get our money’s worth and watch this movie in peace.”
“You need to shut up old—”
John grabbed the guy by the collar, jerked him to his feet.
“Hey, man! Don’t touch me!” The guy, shorter than John by at least four inches, tried unsuccessfully to wrench himself free from the iron grip on his collar.
“Apologize to her, now.”
“You can kiss my—”
“Yo! Shut up, punk.” A huge man, six and a half feet tall if he was a foot, and half as wide, approached and stood before the trouble maker. “I just dropped twenty-five bucks so my wife and I could watch this movie and you haven’t shut up since you got here. Truthfully, if this man hadn’t called you out when he did, I was about to.”
The punk shook off John’s grip. “This mo fo put his hands on me, man. I ain’t havin’ it!”
“You do realize I, along with everyone else in the theater,” the giant emphasized his point by waving his finger around, “heard what you called his lady, don’t you?”
“She raggin’ on me.”
“She spoke the truth, punk! You’re the only ignorant fool holdin’ a phone conversation when everybody else here’s got enough sense to turn their phones off. Man, get on outta here before I let this man go off on you like he’s itching to.”
John Michael stepped forward, becoming aware that, at some point during the three-way exchange, the movie had paused. “Not until he apologizes to this lady.”
The punk snorted. “You trippin’, old man.”
The big man poked
his thick finger in the guy’s chest. “You’re the one trippin’ if you think you’re walking outta here without doing what he says.”
The punk, even puffed-up like a rooster, barely reached the big man’s chin. “What you gonna do if I don’t? You gonna take a white man’s side against a brother?”
“You ain’t my brother, and I ain’t gonna do a thing but step aside and let this man give you what you deserve. Dude looks like he’s worked hard all his life—I’m thinking he’d finish you off in about ten seconds flat.”
A young woman approached, wearing the khaki pants and navy polo shirt required of this particular theater’s employees. “Excuse me, I’ve called security and they’ll be here any second. You gentlemen can leave now or be escorted out.”
Several people spoke up, pointing at the troublemaker, every one of them insisting he was the only one who needed to leave.
She gave him a stern look. “Sir, you’re going to have to leave.”
“If I do, you gonna give me my money back.”
The big man got in his face. “You’re the one who needs to give us all our money back. I doubt I’m the only one who missed the first fifteen minutes of the movie because you’re in love with the sound of your own voice. Now tell both these ladies you’re sorry, and leave before I drag you out into that parking lot and finish what this man started.” He leaned over to get in his face as the security guard arrived.
Apparently, the punk didn’t have the personal space or the ability to bow-up in the giant’s presence. “Ah-ight. I apologize to you—” he nodded once in Cynthia’s direction then turned to the female employee. “And you, too.” He threw an ugly glare in John Michael’s direction and pointed a finger at him. “But this ain’t over, old man.”
John Michael made two fists, the work-hardened sinewy muscles of his arms tight and ready for a fight if needed. “Oh, you better hope it’s over.”
The mall’s burly security guard stepped forward, looking as though he’d judged the situation correctly. “It’s over unless you want me to call the Lake Coburn PD for a pick up.”
The big man took a step closer to the punk’s face. “Nah, he’s going—ain’t you?”
The punk tried to hold his ground, made an obvious effort not to back up at the giant’s threatening stance. John suspected it was in an effort to save face in front of the woman who’d accompanied him—and who’d remained quiet during the entire exchange.
“Yeah man.” He reached out his hand to the young woman. “Come on, baby.”
The woman shook her head and slapped his hand aside. “I ain’t ya baby, and what the hell you talking about gettin’ your money back? I’m the one paid for your ticket. Like I paid for the phone that got ya no-good behind in trouble, because you ain’t any better at keeping a job than you are at keeping ya mouth shut.” She pointed at the theater worker. “Don’t you give him a dime.”
Several people around them snickered as the theater worker shook her head. “No ma’am, I won’t. Let’s go, sir.”
The punk contemplated for a full second before turning his back on her. “Fuh-get you.” He stopped, turned back. “Give me the car keys.”
The woman crossed her arms. “To my car? You can walk your broke ass back to your mama. I work fifty hours a week to pay the note on my car, and I don’t do it so you can ride around in it.” She stood then and waved her finger in his face. “Im’a tell you something else, too. If you leave outta here and key it or mess it up in any way, I’m gonna hunt you down and have your no-good, useless carcass thrown in jail, you hear me? Don’t you touch ma car.” She seated herself again. “Good riddance,” she said, then raised her hands. “I’m sorry y’all. I tried to get him to shut up.”
He turned with a wave of his hand. “Fuh-get all y’all, man. I don’t need this!” He walked off in a huff, followed by the security guard as the theater exploded in applause and cheers at his departure.
The uniformed woman walked to the front and addressed the crowd. “We’ll put the movie back on for y’all, folks. Sorry about the interruption.”
Someone in the front row threw in a question. “Don’t suppose you could restart it, could you? He walked in talking right at the start and didn’t shut up the entire time.”
She shook her head apologetically. “No sir, but we’ll back it up a bit.”
John Michael turned to the big man. “I didn’t need your help, but I sure did appreciate the reinforcement, man.” Straight-backed, with his chin up he offered his hand. “Thank you.”
The man shook his hand. “It was the right thing to do, my man. He was out of line.”
The two parted, each going back to their spots.
John Michael lowered himself into the seat next to Cynthia. He glanced over to see her watching him. “What?”
She slipped her arm through his and gushed as she fluttered her eyelashes. “Who’s my big, strong hero?”
He adjusted his collar uncomfortably. “Stop it,” he groaned, catching her low chuckle as the lights dimmed and the picture started up again.
John held the theater’s exit door open for Cynthia—kept it open for the approaching couple. He nodded at the big man who’d recently backed him up. His wife, who seemed to be in her last trimester of pregnancy, gave him a bright smile.
He placed a friendly hand on the man’s massive arm as he passed. “Thanks again, man.”
The man’s smile widened. “No problem, sir.” He leaned in closer. “Besides, if I hadn’t stepped up, I’d have had to fight my wife off of him. She’s been waiting for this movie for months.”
John laughed as they stepped through the door into the brightly lit corridor. He extended his hand again. “John Michael Ferguson.”
The big man took less than a second to contemplate before offering his own hand. “Ferguson, huh?”
John nodded, realizing the man was remembering the Michael Brown incident in Ferguson, Missouri. “Yep. No relation.”
A deep chuckle resonated from the giant as he gave John’s hand a hearty pump or two. “I’m Jordan Brown.”
John grinned. “It’s nice to meet you, Jordan.”
“Jordon. Michael. Brown.”
John froze. “Seriously?”
The big man nodded. “Yep. No relation.” He shrugged and grinned at John, revealing large, straight, white teeth. “What are the odds, huh?”
“Pretty slim, man.” He turned to Cynthia. “This is a friend of mine and my beautiful date for the night, Cynthia Ellender. Cyn, this is Mr. Jordan Brown.”
Cynthia extended her hand. “Nice to meet you, Jordan and …”
The pretty, petite woman beside him took her hand. “I’m Lydia, and it’s nice to meet you Cynthia. For a while there I thought we were going to be bailing these two out of jail. Can you believe that guy, talking on his phone like he was in the middle of Wal-Mart?”
“I know! I don’t know why some people think they don’t have to follow the rules.”
“I swear that made me so angry. Jordan finally got up because I was about to say something.”
Jordan placed a hand on his right side. “It might have something to do with the bruises from her elbow jabbing into my ribs. She’s been breaking my arm to see this movie for three weeks. I thought for sure the troublemakers would have come and gone by now.” He looked at his wife and shook his finger at her. “I swore after the last time we wouldn’t come here again.”
She caught hold of his finger in the crook of her own and pulled it down. “I know, you’re here because of me, and I appreciate it.”
“What happened the last time?” John asked.
“A couple showed up here with two kids, looked about three and four years old. They let those two run around here like some wild animals—kicking the back of my seat, running up and down the aisles, screaming and talking like they were in a daycare. Got on my last nerve.”
“I hope you had them thrown out.”
“We sure did. And the worst thing about it was those littl
e ones shouldn’t have been in there in the first place.” Lydia’s eyes widened. “All those zombies and monsters terrified me.”
Cynthia covered her mouth. “And they brought their children?”
Jordan leaned forward, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. “I thought white folks would’ve had more sense than that.”
John Michael’s reply was accompanied by a snort of laughter. “Yeah, well I’ve learned stupid people come in all colors, shapes, and sizes.”
Jordan nodded. “Now that’s a righteous statement if I ever heard one, my man.” He gave John’s shoulder a hefty pat.
Cynthia leaned closer to the man’s wife. “I loved the movie anyway, Lydia. What did you think?”
“I enjoyed it, once we got to watch in peace. Oh …” Lydia reached for her side, made a face as her husband’s worried look reached her. “I’m okay, Jordan. It’s nothing.”
Cynthia leaned forward. “How far along are you?”
“Nearly thirty-six weeks. I can’t wait for him to get here.”
“A son.” John nudged Jordan. “Gonna have fun with that one, huh dad?”
“Oh yeah, man. I got plans. He’s gonna be outdoors with me. I ain’t letting my kid keep his nose stuck in some stupid video game all day long. And when he’s old enough I’m gonna keep his butt so busy he won’t have time to get in trouble. You got kids, John?”
“One son, and he and his wife gave me a set of twin grandbabies.” John’s face spread in a wide grin as he thought of the two adorable babies. “Man, you think kids are great. Wait until you hold your first grandchild.”
“Twins! That sounds like a nightmare.”
“Nah, they handle those babies fine. Besides—” he gave Lydia a sideways glance. “You sure she isn’t carrying two in there?”
Jordan’s laughter boomed in the theater’s emptying lobby. “Oh man, don’t you be cursing me. I can barely handle one at a time.”
Lydia grabbed hold of his arm. “Just think, Jordan, twice the dirty diapers.” She laughed at her husband’s dramatic cringe. “The first time he tried to change our daughter’s poopy diaper, I thought he was gonna be sick. I mean, really—there he was; six foot six and two hundred and seventy-five pounds of muscle—dry heaving over his baby daughter’s diaper. It was pitiful, I tell you. Pitiful!” The three of them laughed as Jordan made convincing gagging noises.