“Excuse me?”
“You want somethin’ to eat,” he mumbled, smiling, while bits of chicken rolled around in his mouth, “go to the counter and ring the bell. Darlene’s back there cookin’, but she’ll stop long enough to come take your order.”
The young couple seated at the table turned to look at her. They both smiled at her confusion. “It’s okay, really,” the girl said to her. “That’s how it works in here.”
The young man quickly stood up and announced, “I’ll get her for you.” The girl raised an eyebrow, a smirk teasing one corner of her mouth, as her boyfriend walked to the counter and simultaneously rang the bell and yelled, “Hey, Darlene! You got a customer!”
Darlene emerged from the kitchen and offered her a menu, a single-sided Xeroxed sheet of heavyweight paper listing items from soup to iced tea.
“The pork chops are good today,” Darlene said.
Thinking Darlene’s statement lent some doubt as to the quality of pork chops on any other day she smiled and scanned the menu again.
“Take your time, dear,” Darlene said with a wink as she stood patiently, the film of sweat on her forehead giving hint to the sweltering heat of the kitchen. She was a small woman with tiny features, the fine wrinkles at the corners of her slate-blue eyes seeming only to augment their sparkle. She wore a short-sleeved cotton dress with buttons from neckline to hem, the gray bun of her hair captured in a net.
She held a pencil poised in her petite hand while she waited. “The shrimp and grits are pretty good.”
Shrimp and grits? “I’ll have the beef stew and a glass of iced tea.”
“Sweet?”
“Excuse me?”
“You want your tea with or without sugar?”
“With, please.”
“And would you like a biscuit, roll, or cornbread with that, honey?”
She inwardly cringed at the endearment, but managed a smile and said, “A roll, thanks.”
While she waited for her food to arrive, she made a quick inventory of the meager finances contained in her purse. “Great,” she mumbled to herself. “I’m really going places with this.”
She fingered the checkbook of the account she was sure he had absolutely no knowledge of. It still held a small balance. No, she thought, I won’t even consider using that. As far as she was concerned, it wasn’t hers to use.
Darlene arrived shortly, her strength belying her small stature as she carried the heavy tray. The beef stew turned out to be rather good, though the roll, obviously plucked from a packaged rectangle of twelve, had the consistency of a dried-out sponge. Perhaps she should have tried the biscuit. The mesquite-toothed man in the booth had seemed really happy with his, slathering it with butter and consuming it in two hearty gulps. After finishing his meal and paying Darlene at the counter, he’d looked at her with another smile and a wave and headed out the door. Strange. There’s no way he could have known who she was. Or were people around here always this intimate with complete strangers? The young couple still sat at their table whispering to each other, casting intermittent smiles in her direction.
She took her bill to the cash register and rang the bell. She handed Darlene the cash for her meal and asked, “Is there a hotel nearby?”
“Well, there’s a strip motel about seven miles east of town on 42. Don’t know if they’ll have any rooms available, though.”
She couldn’t fathom that a motel so incongruously placed out here in the middle of farmland and little else would be full to capacity. She thanked Darlene and left.
≈≈≈
Casey Anne Coley grabbed the car keys from the hook on the kitchen wall near the telephone. She hiked the strap of her purse over her shoulder and turned to Jackson, who still sat at the table eating the remainder of his lunch.
“I’m going to pick up the bridesmaids’ gifts from Sally now. If Tom calls, tell him I should be back in about an hour,” she said as he took the last bite of his corned beef sandwich.
“Sure, if he calls, I’ll tell him,” Jackson agreed, chewing solemnly. “It’ll also give us a chance to go over details again about what each of us will be handling out here.” Jackson gave his sister a wink. “Looking forward to having his help around here permanently.”
“Do you think you could wait till he gets back from our honeymoon, or should I go alone?” she asked with jovial sarcasm. “Oh. And don’t forget to tell him he needs to be at the church at least a half hour before the ceremony. Although, I think it would be safer if he got there even sooner.”
“He’s already at the church. Told me yesterday he was going to spend the night there last night, sleep on a pew. Said it’d be worth it.”
She ignored Jackson’s attempts at baiting her. “As a matter of fact, I think I should plan to be there earlier myself, which really doesn’t give me a lot of time to go into town now. Maybe I should wait and pick up the bridesmaids’ gifts on my way to the church.” Casey paused for a half-breath before correcting herself. “No, that won’t work. I have to wrap them. Unless, of course, I take the wrapping paper with me.”
Jackson stared at her, then shook his head. “For Chrissakes, Case. It’s only one-thirty in the afternoon. You could practically drive to Atlanta for the bridesmaids’ gifts and still get back here in time.”
“You just don’t understand, do you?” She looked at him with an exasperated smile. “I want to make sure everything goes perfectly. No mistakes. No delays. This day only comes once in my life.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Jackson replied as he wadded his napkin and placed it on his empty plate, “as soon as you get back here, I’ll wrap the gifts. So you can start getting ready six hours ahead of time.”
She laughed. “Oh, no way. I’ve seen the way you wrap gifts.”
“Okay, I’ll do your hair while you wrap the gifts.” Jackson smirked at her.
“Your comedic abilities are about as impressive as your flair for gift wrapping.” Casey walked over to Jackson, leaned down and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead. “I’m getting out of here before you come up with any more helpful ideas.”
Jackson stood and carried his plate over to the kitchen sink as Casey opened the back door and walked onto the screened porch. “Well, don’t drive too fast. I know how you are when you’re in a hurry,” he called after her.
“Who, me?” she responded happily as she shut the kitchen door behind her.
Her shoes made quick clacking sounds on the wooden planked floor as she hurried across the porch toward the screen door. Seconds later Jackson heard the door bang against its frame with a snap.
He smiled and shook his head, knowing she was probably running at full sprint toward the car.
≈≈≈
She found the Rest Inn Motel right where Darlene said it would be. Brushing the loose strands of auburn hair from her face, she smiled to see a “No Vacancy” sign burning out front. There had to be some mistake, because only two cars sat in the parking lot. Perhaps the sign was out of order.
A jingling bell on the door announced her arrival into the motel office. She began to wonder if everyone in this town was summoned by ringing bells. A teenage girl with her hair in a ponytail entered from a rear door and came to stand before her. “Can I help you?”
“I’d like a room, please.”
“What’s your name?” the girl squeaked out.
“My name?” She shifted her weight nervously. “Do you want me to fill out a card?” She tried to hurriedly think of a fake name to put on the registration card.
“Maybe not. You kin to the Coleys?”
“Wh-hat?”
“You kin to the Sandfords?”
“Why do you ask?”
“You here for the wedding?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The wedding. Casey and Tom’s wedding. I’ve only got rooms available for the rest of the wedding guests,” Ponytail proclaimed.
“You mean you’re completely sold out of r
ooms?”
“That’s right. Unless you’re on my list for the wedding. I’ve still got three people who haven’t shown up yet.”
“No, I’m not here for the wedding, but I only need a room for the night. Surely there must be something available,” she pleaded, her exhaustion beginning to show.
“Nope.” Ponytail smiled at her. “You sure have got pretty hair.”
“Thank you.” She flashed Ponytail a quizzical half-smile of her own. “You mean your entire motel is booked for one wedding?”
“You don’t know Jackson Coley, do you?”
“Should I?” Exasperation edged the fear in her tone. This girl couldn’t possibly know anything about her.
“He’s only the largest landowner in this county. Got friends and business associates all over the tri-county area. And most of ‘em are comin’ to his sister’s wedding, from what I hear.”
“But there are only two cars parked out front.”
“Everyone’s either out having lunch at that new restaurant over in Turbeville or they ain’t got here yet.”
“They what?”
“The three people still on my list. Not here yet. And I can’t give away their rooms. Uncle Frank’d kill me.” Ponytail paused and tapped her pen on the counter, then added, “He’s the manager here,” with a roll of her eyes as if Uncle Frank’s managing abilities were questionable.
“Well, then, can you direct me to the nearest hotel or inn?”
Ponytail gave a little chuckle as if the question truly amused her. “Well, the motel up by the interstate is booked solid, too.”
“Let me guess. Wedding guests.”
“Yep. Guess you’ll have to drive to Athens for a room. ‘Course, a lot of the wedding guests have hotel rooms booked there, too. Came in last night.”
“Athens? What are you talking about?”
“Athens, South Carolina. Don’t you know where you are? Head back up Highway 42 to 314, which takes you to the interstate, then take I-20 East for thirty-five miles and you’ll run smack dab into Athens.”
She let out a sigh, unable to hide her disappointment. She couldn’t bear the thought of driving even five more miles without sleep. But what else could she do? She couldn’t go to them now. She needed time to think about this. And a good night’s sleep would help her think more clearly. Defeated, she thanked the girl and left, the bell above the office door tinkling a farewell.
≈≈≈
The bridesmaids’ gifts safely procured from Sally and sitting on the car seat next to her, Casey drove down Highway 42 toward home. It would take about 20 minutes to drive back out to the farm. That would still give her about three-and-a-half hours before she had to leave for the church. Cynthia planned to meet her at home at four-thirty to help with her hair and makeup. As she went over last-minute details in her mind, Casey, distracted, nearly didn’t see the pickup truck parked on the right shoulder of the road, the motor running. A man she didn’t recognize stood at the driver’s window, leaning in, appearing somewhat agitated.
Is that Clarence Floyd’s truck? What’s he doing stopped way out here?
Casey was about five miles outside of Logan City, where there was nothing on either side of the highway but open fields.
The strange man had one hand on the door handle of the truck and was waving his other hand excitedly at the driver. Unexpectedly, the driver gunned the engine and veered back onto the highway, weaving maniacally, knocking the strange man to the ground. Casey gasped as she watched the man roll onto the pavement. The truck sped off, smoke fuming from its exhaust pipe. The driver seemed to have no concern that he had just hit a man with his truck.
Casey hit her brakes and pulled the car over onto the shoulder. Throwing her door open wide, she scrambled out of the car and ran toward the injured man.
“My God, are you all right?”
Getting no response as she neared the man, Casey repeated, “Sir? Are you all right?”
She leaned over the man to take a closer look. He lay on his stomach, his upper body resting on the pavement, his legs sprawled onto the grassy shoulder. The right side of his face was bloody, torn by the asphalt at impact. Casey gasped again. And that’s when she saw why he had been waving his hand so animatedly at the driver of the truck. The injured man still held the pistol in his left hand as he lay in the road. He began to groan.
Panicked, Casey reached for the pistol in a frenzied attempt to protect herself should he awaken before she had time to escape back to her car. She grabbed the gun from the man’s hand, which gave little resistance, and raised her hand to throw it into the nearby field when the injured man rolled onto his back and lunged at her. He managed to grab Casey by the ankle, throwing her off balance as she pitched the gun, which landed on the shoulder of the road only about fifteen feet away. The man clambered to his feet, grabbed her by the left arm and began pulling her along with him as he went to retrieve the pistol. Casey struggled as she tried to break free of his grasp, but the man only tightened his grip.
“Well, ain’t it my lucky day?” the man sneered at her sardonically. “Transportation and a pretty little thing. My, my, my.”
Casey winced at his words and his nearness. His clothes and hair were filthy; he reeked from the stench of infrequent baths, the blood on his face only adding to his frightening appearance. Her strength was no equal to his and her struggling failed to free her from his grasp.
He continued to pull her along toward the waiting pistol. They were within eight feet of it now. With everything she had in her, Casey began violently hitting at the man with her free hand. She jerked and jolted and kicked at him while she tried desperately to free herself. The man responded by punching Casey in her right temple with his fist. She nearly lost consciousness as she slumped toward the ground, the man still gripping her by the arm. Dazed, her body hung from his grasp as thoughts of Tom ran through her injured head. The man jerked her upright and grabbed her with both hands, her balance still unsteady.
“Oh, yeah. Me an’ you goin’ to have some fun, all right, Blondie.”
≈≈≈ She sat in her car and unhooked the barrette from her hair, then scooped it back into a bun, catching all the loose auburn strands before securing it again.
God, it’s so hot and humid here, she thought as she pulled out of the Sleep Inn Motel parking lot onto Highway 42.
An old man in a pickup truck swerved over the center line, almost hitting her head-on as he sped by. She caught a quick glimpse of his stricken face.
Just came from Darlene’s café, huh? Must’ve had the rolls, she laughed to herself. Should have had that biscuit, buddy.
Her thoughts returned to her present mission. Six miles back to Logan City, then thirty-six miles down 314 to the interstate, then thirty-five miles to Athens and a hotel room.
She didn’t know if she had the energy to make it that far. But what choice did she have? Sleep deprivation was affecting all of her senses and her head began to nod.
Stay awake. You’ve come this far without much sleep. You can go a little farther.
She had driven a little over two miles when movement on the side of the road caught her eye. What she saw removed all effects of sleep deprivation. A young blonde woman and a man were engaged in a ferocious struggle on the grassy shoulder. Suddenly the man punched the young woman in the head with his fist.
Tightening her grip on the steering wheel, she had only a second or two to react to what she had just seen before her mind went into a kind of oblivious rage. Gone was any mental acuity she may have possessed. Her senses, spurred by her heartfelt anguish for the blonde woman, seemed to be controlled now by anger and outrage. There was only one thing running through her mind.
I’ve seen enough of abusive men to last me a lifetime!
Her mind screamed the thought over and over again while her body reacted through sheer animal instinct. She slowed the car slightly but continued moving toward them, braking just short of hitting them. If the woman had broken free, she woul
d have driven right over the sonofabitch.
“Get your hands off of her!” she screamed as she jumped out of the car.
The man stood staring at her, still holding the struggling woman in his grasp. He leered at her, his face twisted with mordant evil.
“Well, look who’s come to the rescue,” the man said, sneering at her. “Damn if it ain’t Wonder Woman. Hope you got them bullet-stoppin’ wristbands on, Wonder Woman.” He laughed at her.
She stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do, as the man began plodding in the opposite direction, pulling the helpless woman along with him. She heard the woman scream, “A gun! There’s a gun over there!”
Now there was no question as to what she would do. She took off running in their direction, her adrenaline pumping and throbbing in her ears, shutting out every thought but her one single desire to stop him. As she neared them, she stretched her arms forward and leapt full force onto the man’s back, grabbing him around the neck. The jolt of it knocked him off balance and he lost his grip on his blonde hostage.
Still holding on from behind, her left arm around his neck, she pummeled his head with her right fist. His arms flailing, the man attempted to twist around and shake her free. They plummeted to the ground, both of them sprawling within reaching distance of the pistol. He jammed his left elbow with unmitigated force into her chin, her auburn hair falling loose and cascading in a wild spray about her as her head fell to the grass.
The man reached out for the pistol.
Unable to recover completely from the blow to her chin, she made a feeble effort to rise. She had only managed to raise herself up on one elbow when she saw him retrieve the pistol from the grass and pull himself up to stand above her. Oddly, the last thought she had was not one of fear, but of failure. She had left the blonde woman on her own now, and that sickened her more than her own fate.
***
When her rescuer jumped on the man’s back, Casey believed there was a chance they would both get out of this okay. She had managed to pull herself free from the man’s grasp, but her hope quickly diminished as the momentum sent her falling to the ground. She had landed on her back, her head hitting the hard dirt with a whack. After rolling over and pushing herself up onto her knees, she had managed to get to her feet. But in her dizzy attempt to go the woman’s aid, Casey had stumbled and fallen to the ground again. Helplessly, she had watched the man reclaim the pistol and stand above the injured woman.
Jones, Beverly R Page 2