“It’s okay,” Walt said. “I thought it was strange that Jimmy ran into the woods instead of down the road, but I guess he’s easily confused and didn’t think about it. He panicked.”
Daddy glanced at Mama. Mama spoke.
“Walt, we owe you and your folks an apology. We’re protective of Jimmy because of his limitations and overreacted to the information he gave us. Now that I know what actually happened, I can see the whole picture.”
Aunt Jill reached over and patted Jimmy on the knee. “And don’t worry about the wreath. It doesn’t matter, so long as you’re safe and sound. You’re worth a lot more to us than a wreath or a few sweet gum balls.”
Daddy looked at the floor and didn’t say anything.
“Let’s have cobbler and ice cream,” Aunt Jill added brightly. “It will make everyone feel better.”
Jimmy sighed with relief. He’d rather enjoy cobbler than argue with Walt and Uncle Bart. Aunt Jill’s cobbler was as good as her fried chicken. It had a flaky crust with slightly sweet cherries underneath that popped in his mouth when he bit down on them. And it was easier to eat the delicious dessert than try to argue with Walt and the adults.
AS SOON AS THEY GOT IN THE CAR TO GO HOME, DADDY SPOKE.
“I don’t believe Walt. Something in my gut tells me he’s still lying.”
“But you heard Jimmy admit everything that came up. It was a big misunderstanding.”
“I’ve seen clever liars like Walt. They know how to manipulate facts and rework them so they come out looking squeaky clean.”
“Just because your clients lie doesn’t mean your nephew isn’t telling the truth,” Mama responded. “Why would Walt want to hurt Jimmy in the first place? He has a smart mouth, but he’s never hit or hurt him during all the time they’ve been growing up.”
Daddy grunted. “Not all my clients lie. Just the guilty ones.”
“Maybe so, but after tonight, we can’t dwell on it with Bart and Jill.” Mama paused. “However, there is one thing I want to avoid in the future.”
“What’s that?” Daddy asked.
“Jimmy will not be left alone with Walt for any length of time under any circumstances.”
“Or ride with him in the car.”
“Agreed. There’s no need to mention anything for a few weeks, because Walt is out of commission.”
“Thank you,” Jimmy interjected.
“And we’ll need to change our estate plan,” Daddy added. “Bart and Jill are designated as Jimmy’s guardians in case something happens to us.”
Mama raised her eyebrows. “I’d forgotten about that.”
“I’ll modify the papers this week and let you know when to come by the office and sign them.”
“Who will take their place?”
“My parents. And we’ll hope nothing happens to us or them until we come up with an alternate plan.”
Mama was silent for a second. “What about Vera? Could she come in and try to take him?”
“She would have an argument. That’s another reason why we’re countersuing to terminate her parental rights.”
Mama sighed. “It’s complicated, isn’t it? And beyond all this is the idea of Jimmy trying to live independently as an adult.”
Jimmy didn’t understand exactly what she meant.
THE FOLLOWING WEEK MAX CAME OVER FOR A VISIT BUT got nothing more than a short account of Jimmy’s adventures in the woods. He forced Jimmy to stop when he came to the part about the Watcher at the well.
“Why can’t I see them?” Max asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Why do you get to see them?”
Jimmy smiled. “Because I’m special.”
Max’s mouth dropped open in surprise. He knew how Jimmy didn’t like that word.
“Jimmy, did you mean that as a joke?”
“Was it funny?”
“Yes.”
“Then why aren’t you laughing?”
Max laughed. “Because I didn’t want to hurt your feelings if you didn’t mean it that way. Does that mean there is a good kind of special?”
“Yes,” Jimmy said. “I’ve been thinking about it, and you’re a special football player. When we go to high school, you’re going to be the most special quarterback ever.”
— Twenty —
The school year ended, and Jimmy was promoted to the eighth grade. Two days later he celebrated his fourteenth birthday. The night before the big day, he lay in bed wondering about his presents. With Buster in the backyard and his red bicycle leaned against the railing of the front porch, Jimmy had everything a boy could possibly want.
Jimmy didn’t like big birthday parties. When he turned six, Mama invited his whole first-grade class to a party at the local roller-skating rink, but after thirty minutes, Jimmy went to the car.
Jimmy went downstairs for breakfast. Mama was fixing pecan pancakes with link sausage. Birthdays were different from Christmas. On birthdays he had to wait until the afternoon to open his gifts.
“Happy birthday,” she said.
“Good morning, Mama. Where’s Daddy?”
“He had to go to work early so he can come home for your party.”
After breakfast Jimmy and Mama spent two hours working in the flower beds. Mama raised flowers in broad bands across the front and side of the house. The plants needed a lot of watering and weeding. Daddy had spread several dump-truck loads of river-bottom dirt over the red clay, and Jimmy liked the feel of the rich soil between his fingers. He kept a plastic cup beside him, and as he pulled up the weeds, he searched for earthworms. He put moist soil in the bottom of the cup and dropped the worms on top. When he had a few wiggling creatures in a pile, he added another layer of soil and repeated the process. Grandpa believed homegrown earthworms, so long as they were fresh, caught as many fish as the ones bought at the bait store.
Buster liked to dig in the flower beds too, but he couldn’t tell the difference between a daisy and a dandelion, so one of Jimmy’s jobs was to keep the dog entertained. Jimmy brought two tennis balls outside and threw them across the yard for Buster to fetch. The black-and-white dog was tireless, and even on the hottest days he never stopped returning the balls and waiting for another one. Sometimes Jimmy would reach over and scratch Buster’s belly. A certain place Jimmy scratched caused the dog’s hind leg to twitch rapidly back and forth. Watching the dog’s leg shake made Jimmy laugh. Buster didn’t mind. He closed his eyes and let his tongue hang out the side of his mouth.
MAX ARRIVED MIDAFTERNOON CARRYING A LARGE PRESENT wrapped in yellow paper. Jimmy saw his friend’s arrival from his bedroom window and ran downstairs to greet him. As he threw open the front door, he saw Max lifting his bicycle from the back of his mother’s van.
“Happy birthday!” Jimmy called out.
Max rolled his bike up to the porch and leaned it against the steps.
“That’s what I’m supposed to say. It’s your birthday.”
“But I want you to have a happy day on my birthday.”
Max came into the house and handed Jimmy the present. “Guess what it is.”
Jimmy took the box and shook it. It didn’t make any sound.
“It’s light. Is it a really small gift that you put in a big box to fool me?”
“You’ll have to find out later.”
Max walked into the foyer and slipped off a backpack. Mama entered.
“What’s in the backpack?” Jimmy asked.
“My clothes. I’m going to spend the night.”
“Yes!” Jimmy exclaimed, glancing up at Mama in appreciation.
“And I asked Max to bring his bike,” Mama added.
“We can ride in the yard!” Jimmy exclaimed.
Max smiled. “I thought we might take a longer trip.”
“To Grandpa’s house?”
Mama spoke. “No, I’m willing to let you ride downtown so long as Max is with you. You’ll have to promise to stay right beside him and do what he tells you about traffic. Leav
e Buster home for this trip.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ten minutes later, the two boys were pedaling down the sidewalk with Max in the lead and Jimmy’s eyes glued to his friend’s back. At the first intersection, they slowed to a stop. Jimmy honked his horn twice. Walking the bikes across the street, they continued toward Hathaway Street and the center of town. At each stop sign or light, Jimmy pressed the bulb for his horn at least two times.
“You sure like that horn, don’t you?” Max asked.
Jimmy honked in response. Let the world know he’d arrived.
They reached Hathaway Street, named for the family who owned the first general store in the area. It was the center of business activity.
“We’ll walk our bikes down the sidewalk,” Max said.
Jimmy passed the barbershop where he went for haircuts. Mr. Griffin, the barber, looked out the big plate-glass window. Jimmy proudly pointed at his bike, and Mr. Griffin waved. Next to the barbershop was an insurance agency, a small café, and then a two-story office building at one corner of the courthouse square.
The Cattaloochie County Courthouse never appeared on calendars featuring historic Georgia courthouses, Daddy said, because it was built in the 1950s under the supervision of a board of county commissioners who knew more about concrete-block hog pens than courthouses. Built of dingy brown brick, it had two entrances framed by white columns much too small for the size of the structure.
“That’s where you’ll be next week,” Max said as they passed in front of the courthouse. “I hope everything goes okay.”
“Daddy doesn’t send me to the courthouse. I stay at his office and work.”
“No, I mean the court hearing with your birth mother.”
Jimmy stopped pushing his bike. Max kept going a few feet, then glanced back.
“Uh-oh,” Max said, turning his bike around so he faced Jimmy. “My mom told me about the hearing before the school year ended. I thought you knew about it.”
Jimmy swallowed. “What is a hearing?”
Max shook his head. “Your parents should explain it to you, especially since your daddy is a lawyer.”
“No. I want you to tell me. Mama starts to cry when anyone says anything about my birth mama, and Daddy doesn’t want to upset her.”
Max pushed his bike closer. “All I know is that your birth mother wants to spend time with you, but my mom says she didn’t care about seeing you for a long time, and it wouldn’t be right for her to change her mind now. My dad told me it also has to do with her not buying presents for you on your birthday and at Christmas. There will be a hearing at the courthouse next week in front of a judge who will decide if you have to visit your birth mother or not. My mother is going to be one of the witnesses.”
“Does she know my birth mama?”
“A little bit, but I think she is going to tell the judge what good friends we are and that it wouldn’t be right for us not to see one another.”
“Why wouldn’t I see you?” Jimmy asked in alarm.
“Because your birth mother wants you to live part of the time with her in Atlanta. My dad says no judge in the world would make that happen. He’s not a lawyer, but he’s smart about lots of stuff.”
“Are you going to be at the hearing?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“I haven’t been invited.”
“Well, I want you to come.”
“Listen, Jimmy. I’m sorry I brought this up. It’s your birthday, and I don’t want to ruin it. Everything is going to be all right.”
A man exited the courthouse and walked down the sidewalk toward them. It was Mr. Long. He saw Jimmy and smiled.
“Happy birthday!” he called out as he came closer to them. “How does it feel to be fourteen?”
“Okay,” Jimmy replied.
“What’s wrong?” Mr. Long asked.
Jimmy didn’t respond, and the man turned to Max.
“You’re Max Cochran, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m a lawyer helping Jimmy’s father. Your mother showed me a picture of you and Jimmy taken at your house. I think you were standing in front of a small barn.”
“Yes, sir. That’s the day Jimmy came over and helped me rake leaves. We worked most of the day and finished a lot quicker than if I’d been doing it alone. Jimmy is like a machine with a rake. He almost never takes a break.”
Mr. Long smiled at Jimmy. “If you like to rake leaves so much, I’d like to invite you to my house in the fall.”
Jimmy stared at the sidewalk. “Yes, sir.”
“I just told Jimmy about the hearing,” Max said. “I don’t think he knew about it.”
Mr. Long nodded his head to a concrete bench in front of the courthouse.
“Come over here,” he said to the two boys.
They leaned their bicycles against the end of the bench. Mr. Long sat down. Jimmy and Max stood before him.
“Jimmy, I’m going to meet with you and your parents tomorrow and talk to you about the hearing. We thought it would be better to let you enjoy your birthday without thinking about anything else. Can you forget about the hearing for now?”
Jimmy stuck out his lower lip. “No, sir. I want to stay with Mama, Daddy, Grandpa, Buster, and Max.”
“And that’s exactly what you’re going to tell the judge. Now that you’re fourteen, the judge has to pay attention to what you think should happen about visitation and custody. He’ll also listen to your parents and the other witnesses we’ll have in court.”
“Visitation and custody?” Jimmy asked.
“Visiting your birth mother and spending a lot of time with her at her house. Your birth mother wants the judge to make your parents let her see you.”
“Judge Robinson goes to our church,” Max said. “He’ll do what Mr. Mitchell wants him—”
Mr. Long interrupted. “Judge Robinson won’t be deciding the case. There will be a visiting judge from Harrelson County. But no more talk about the hearing. This is Jimmy’s special day. You boys finish your bike ride. Jimmy, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Mr. Long got up and continued down the street. Max spoke.
“Jimmy, everything is going to be okay. My dad told me you don’t have anything to worry about.”
Max’s father was an expert shot with both a pistol and a rifle and could fix a lawn mower engine that wouldn’t start.
“What exactly did he say?”
“That your parents are in the right, and your birth mother is in the wrong. You’ll have to come to the courthouse for the hearing, but nothing is going to change. All that talk about visitation and custody is just a bunch of lawyer talk that won’t amount to anything.”
Jimmy nodded. “I want to be nice to my birth mama, but I don’t want to go to a strange place and not see my family or you.”
“My dad says that won’t happen. The judge is going to throw it out of court.”
“I hope he doesn’t throw it at me.”
Max laughed.
“Do you want to ride over to your daddy’s office?” he asked. “We could show him how far we’ve ridden our bikes today.”
“No, I want to go home. I don’t want to miss my party.”
“Don’t worry about that either. The party can’t start without you. You’re the birthday boy.”
They went back the way they’d come. Jimmy honked his horn, but with less gusto, at all stop signs and traffic lights. He couldn’t figure out how he should feel about his birth mama. He was fascinated by the five pictures he kept in his desk, but his curiosity didn’t make him want to leave home to spend time with someone he didn’t know. And, of course, he didn’t want people to fight over him.
The two boys turned into Jimmy’s driveway behind a brown UPS truck. The driver stepped from the vehicle. Jimmy recognized the man as a member of the First Baptist Church.
“Just the person I need to see,” the driver said as Jimmy and Max stopped beside hi
m on their bikes.
The man handed Jimmy a long, narrow box.
“This has your name on it.”
Jimmy read James Lee Mitchell III, followed by his address.
“I bet it’s a birthday present,” Max said.
Jimmy thanked the driver and took the box. He and Max carried it to the front porch and sat on the steps.
“Open it,” Max said.
“Not until after we eat the cake.”
“Don’t worry. It will be wrapped on the inside.”
Jimmy hesitated. Max took the box from him and turned it so he could read the label.
“Who is Mrs. Lonnie Horton?” he asked. “Is she one of your relatives?”
“I don’t know. Let’s go ask Mama.”
Mama was not in the kitchen. Max leaned the box against the kitchen counter. While the boys were drinking water, Mama came into the room.
“How was the bike ride?” she asked.
“Fine,” Max replied before Jimmy could answer. “Jimmy stayed right with me, and we didn’t have any problems with traffic. He must have honked the horn on his bike at least thirty or forty times. We went all the way to the courthouse before we turned around.”
“Who did you see downtown?”
“Lots of people,” Max said.
“I guess you know most everybody,” Mama said with a smile.
“Yes, ma’am.” Max picked up the long, narrow box. “But I don’t know Mrs. Lonnie Horton. Is she one of Jimmy’s out-of-town relatives?”
The smile on Mama’s face vanished. She jerked the box from Max and examined the label.
“Where did this come from?” she asked sharply.
“We followed the UPS driver up to the house, and he gave it to us,” Max replied. “Isn’t it a birthday present for Jimmy?”
“If it is, he doesn’t want it.”
“Why not?” Jimmy asked. “It might be a BB gun. It feels about the same weight as the one Max has at his house. The last time I spent the night with him, he showed me how to shoot it, and I hit a can sitting on a fence.”
“We’re careful, Mrs. Mitchell,” Max began. “My dad taught me all about gun safety, and Jimmy follows the rules—”
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