Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows

by David O. Dyer, Sr.

  “Have you asked her to marry you?"

  “I told her before I asked for the first date that I was going to marry her. She agreed to go out with me. I take that as an affirmative answer."

  “I mean have you formally asked her to marry you? You know, down on one knee and pleaded."

  He laughed. “I'm not that romantic, Maggie, but we did talk about it tonight. That's why I'm so late. The poor thing has to be at work in the morning at five."

  “Come on, Big Brother. You're holding out on me."

  He pulled off his sock and stood beside the fireplace resting his arm on the mantle. “I'll bet this room is cozy when there's a fire in the fireplace."

  “Probably. We cut firewood for the Dollars most of the day. We need to cut some for me as well. Now, tell me about your conversation with June about marriage."

  “I was getting ready to leave when she brought it up. She asked if I was serious about marrying her. I assured her I was. She asked if I was willing to gamble that she would be adequate in bed."

  “She said that?"

  He nodded.

  “She wants you, man. You should have jumped her bones right then and there."

  He shook his head. “She's very self-conscious about her lack of experience. That's all. She's an old-fashioned girl who believes in saving sex for marriage, but she's watched so much TV she thinks I will quit caring for her unless she spreads her legs for me."

  “Big Brother, you are a real surprise to me."

  “I told you, Maggie. I love her. Anyway, we talked a couple of hours about what married life together will be like. I would like for her to join me in my business, but she wants to continue as a waitress."

  “Thank goodness for that. She's good and I would hate to lose her."

  As he turned to face Maggie, his elbow knocked something off the mantle. He picked it up and looked at it curiously.

  “I don't know what it is,” Maggie said. “I was weeding the flower garden in front of the house and found it. I don't know why I kept it. Just toss it in the trash."

  He looked at the trashcan in the opposite corner of the room, assumed a stance as if he were playing basketball and heaved the missile.

  “Two points,” Maggie squealed as the lump of lead bounced off the wall and rattled in the bottom of the metal basket. “Frank, what are you going to do tomorrow while June is at work?"

  “I thought I'd drive around Dot and see if I can find a location for my business. Tim made several suggestions I want to check out."

  “Why don't you go with Greta and me?"

  “Go where?"

  “Panning for gold."

  “You have to be kidding."

  She smiled. “Sit down, Big Brother. I have a tall tale to tell you about a ghost, a diary and a treasure map."

  * * * *

  Greta lay listening to Eddie snore. She forced her eyes closed but they popped back open as if controlled by heavy springs. She slid out of bed and went to the bathroom even though her bladder did not seem full. She blotted herself, stood and pulled up her pajama bottoms. It felt so good to wear pajamas again now that her bruises were healing and Eddie allowed her to wear clothes inside the house.

  Perhaps a glass of warm milk will help me get to sleep, she thought as she headed for the kitchen, or a dose of Alta-Seltzer Plus. She chuckled.

  A cold chill hit her as she passed the spare room. She stopped and stared at the door. She turned the knob and shivered as the old hinges squeaked. She closed the door behind her and sat at the desk without turning on any lights.

  “Miss Jenkins,” she whispered. “Seems like I'm always in trouble, but I'm in a real mess now. Turns out I didn't kill that guy in Fayetteville, but I know Eddie killed Bobby and Adele. The Dollars say that makes me as guilty of their murders as Eddie is ‘cause I didn't tell on him. They say if I go to the police now I might get off with a suspended sentence and collect a huge reward for turning Eddie in, but Eddie would kill me without thinking twice about it. The Dollars say the police will lock Eddie up and he'll never get out, but they don't know Eddie. He'd find a way to weasel out of it. He always lands on his feet. Just look at what happened when he lost his job at the Korner Kafe."

  She pressed her cheek against the cold wood of the desk and imagined someone gently rubbing her back. She shivered with delight.

  “If something don't happen I'm gonna have to kill Sewana Monday morning. I don't want to do that, Miz Jenkins. What am I gonna do? The Dollars say they want to help, but I can't tell them the truth. Maggie would help if she could. But even if she knew the truth what could she do? The Dollars offered me money one time and there's all that reward money. I could run away, but where could I go that Eddie wouldn't find me?"

  She pushed herself erect and paced back and forth. Each time she neared the file cabinet the room felt colder. She randomly pulled open the second drawer. It was crammed with papers, most of which she herself jammed into the drawer when she tidied up the spare room. She reached inside and pulled out a small brown spiral notebook. She did not remember seeing it before. She sat in an overstuffed chair and snapped on the floor lamp.

  She rubbed her eyes against the glare of the incandescent bulb. She flipped open the book. Quotations in Miss Jenkins’ handwriting filled its pages. She skimmed the neat script until her eyes seemed to focus against her will on a single quotation from George Eliot. “...starting a long way off the true point, and proceeding by loops and zigzags, we now and then arrive just where we ought to be."

  She read it a second time and a third. It made no sense to her. She read it a fourth time. She tore the page from the book, put the book back in the file cabinet and returned to the bedroom where she placed the note in the jeans she planned to wear tomorrow while panning for gold. Maggie could explain the quotation to her. She crawled into bed and immediately drifted into a deep slumber.

  “Greta, are you listening to me?"

  Greta turned and saw a short, slender young woman dressed in a flowing white robe that seemed to glow even in the bright sunlight. “Who are you?” she asked.

  “I am Ida Jenkins, dear girl. You talk to me frequently, but you never listen. Are you listening now, Greta?"

  “Miz Jenkins, you're suppose to be dead and you're supposed to be an old woman."

  “The old woman is buried in the church cemetery, but the young woman I used to be is very much alive in your mind. Because you want me to live, I do live through you, and through you I want to experience all the joys of life I missed the first time around."

  “I'm crazy for believing in ghosts, ain't I Miz Jenkins?"

  “Most people would say so and it's best if you don't tell very many people about me, but you're not crazy. You're dreaming right now, Greta. You're fast asleep and dreaming. It's the only way I could find to make you listen to me."

  “So this is nothing but a dream?"

  “You're dreaming, but if you will listen to me and make a few promises, all your problems will be over by this time tomorrow night."

  “I'm listening, Miz Jenkins."

  “After your troubles are over, you must promise me to continue living in this house. The time will come when you can buy it back from the county, and you must promise to do that."

  “I like your house, Miz Jenkins, but I have no money. How can I buy it?"

  “You leave that part up to me. You must also promise to not only talk to me, but also listen. I have much to teach you."

  “I'll listen, Miz Jenkins, but you'll have to teach me how to do it."

  “One more thing you must promise, Greta. You must quit working for the Dollars. I will provide for you financially."

  “Yes ma'am, but what about Eddie?"

  “By this time tomorrow night, Eddie will no longer be a problem. Tomorrow you will tell the authorities that Eddie killed the Elliotts."

  “But Sandy said I was as guilty as Eddie ‘cause I know he done it and didn't tell."

  “Legally Sandra is correct, but sometimes the l
aw has a heart. The detectives will understand, and they will be very appreciative that you finally came forward."

  “I have to trust somebody. I'll tell the Dollars the truth first thing in the morning."

  “No, don't say anything to the Dollars. When the time comes, you will know who to tell."

  “You'll let me know?"

  “I will. I must go now. Get a good night's sleep. You have a big day ahead of you."

  “Don't go, Miz Jenkins! Don't go yet. Miz Jenkins! Miz Jenkins! Miz Jenkins!"

  “Shut the fuck up,” Eddie growled.

  “Miz Jenkins! Miz Jenkins!"

  “Shut up, bitch,” Eddie yelled as he slapped her face. “You woke me up in the middle of the damn night."

  “I ... I'm sorry, Eddie. I was dreaming."

  “Yeah,” he said. “Who the hell is Miz Jenkins?"

  “I ... you know how crazy dreams are."

  “Yeah, well, I'm awake now and I have a hard-on you won't believe. Get your mouth down there and do something about it, bitch."

  She crawled under the covers, pushed down his shorts and fondled his penis. Enjoy it, Eddie, she thought. It's the last time, baby.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Why do you think Sandy wouldn't let Junior come with us this morning?” Greta asked.

  “It's just as well,” Maggie responded. “I want to go as far upstream today as the Blazer will take us. I don't know what we will find up there. It may be dangerous."

  “Still, the little guy wanted to go so badly. That's the first time I ever saw him cry."

  “Looks to me like he's spoiled rotten,” Frank commented. “The kid's used to getting his own way."

  “That's true,” Greta said, “but he's been looking forward to going with us all week."

  “He'll get over it,” Maggie said. “Sandy promised to take him fishing. The first time his bobber drops out of sight he'll forget all about panning for gold."

  “I hope so. I ain't known him long, but I've kinda gotten attached to the kid. It just broke my heart to see him crying and not be able to do anything for him."

  Greta pulled the crumpled notebook page from her pocket and tried to focus on the words as the Blazer bounced through undergrowth.

  “What do you have there?” Frank asked.

  “It's a page from one of Miz Jenkins notebooks. Somehow I think it's a message meant for me, but I don't understand it."

  “Miss Jenkins? Maggie, isn't that the ghost you told me about last night?"

  Maggie smiled and nodded.

  “What's it say, Greta?"

  “Starting a long way off the true point, and proceeding by loops and zigzags, we now and then arrive just where we ought to be."

  “Ah,” Frank said. “George Eliot from her book Middlemarch, if I remember correctly."

  “Frank,” Maggie said as she slowed the Blazer's speed. “I'm impressed."

  “When you live alone as I have most of my life, you have to do something with your spare time. Years ago I discovered George Eliot while browsing in the Atlanta public library. As I started reading her books, I made notes of some of her philosophical statements. The best of them I memorized."

  “Do you know what it means, Frank?” Greta asked.

  “Yeah. At least I know what it means to me. It's helped me through some rough times in my life."

  “Well, don't keep us in suspenders, Professor,” Maggie joked.

  “To me it means that sometimes—not always, but sometimes—when our plans don't work out as we hope, what actually happens is better for us than if our plans did work out."

  Greta sighed. “I ain't got no plans so I reckon it wasn't a message to me after all."

  “That's not necessarily true, Greta,” Frank said. “I think many people wander through life without any particular ambition. That wandering could be what Eliot calls loops and zigzags. Sometimes this haphazard wandering takes us right where we ought to be."

  “I still don't understand how it could apply to me."

  Maggie slowed the Blazer to a stop, a stand of trees blocking her way. She switched off the ignition and looked at Greta. “I'm not saying that your finding that quotation is a message from your friendly ghost, Greta, but here's what it could mean to you. I don't know very much about your personal life, but from what you've told me, you have just wandered through life, as Frank said. For whatever reason, you latched onto Eddie Crow and you followed him here to Dot. I personally don't see much of a future for you with Eddie Crow. He's a sorry bastard. However, you've made some good friends in Dot. You did not plan to come here, but life brought you here anyway. Maybe, just maybe, you have a good future right here with the Dollars. Maybe you'll become fabulously wealthy from our gold prospecting project and live happily ever after."

  “I wish,” Greta said wistfully. Wait a minute, Greta thought. Maybe she's right. Miz Jenkins said she'd provide the money for me to buy the house. Maybe we will get rich panning for gold. I don't have as many friends as Maggie thinks. The Dollars are going to hate my guts when I quit working for them. But Maggie's a friend. Sewana could be, and I sure do like Frank. Hell, I'd do him right now with Maggie watching if he was interested.

  “Little Sister,” Frank said, “if we are going to go any further upstream, it looks like we'll have to hoof it."

  “I didn't count on being totally blocked like this,” Maggie said as she studied the terrain. “I suppose we could backtrack and try to drive around this stand of trees."

  “Can't we save that for tomorrow?” Frank asked. “I want you ladies to teach me to pan for gold. Let's give it a try right here."

  Greta shook her head. “This ain't a good spot,” she said. “The water's running too fast here. We need a place where the water can pool up. That's where we'll find gold."

  Frank looked at Maggie who nodded in agreement. “Greta's right,” she said.

  “There was a likely place a couple of miles back, but I'd rather look upstream."

  “The Blazer can't get through those trees, Maggie, and it would be hard going for us to walk through that undergrowth. One thing's for certain. There hasn't been anybody up this way in a long time."

  “There's a simple solution, Big Brother,” Maggie said. “We pull off our shoes and wade upstream in the creek."

  Frank smiled. “I like it. I haven't gone barefooted since I was a teenager."

  They piled out of the Blazer and pulled off their shoes. Frank rolled up his pant legs as the two women stripped, revealing the bathing suits they were wearing. They began to divide the tools to carry with them.

  Greta turned her back and adjusted the top of her suit. Let's see how you like my tits, Mr. Frank, she thought. Hey, Miz Jenkins. Would you like for us to screw Maggie's brother?

  “Want to take the picnic basket and cooler?” Frank asked.

  “Don't know how far we will have to walk,” Maggie said. “If you think you can lug them several miles, be my guest."

  Frank studied the situation for a moment, placed the basket and cooler a few feet apart and ran the shaft of the shovel under the handles. He lifted the shovel from the middle of the shaft and placed it behind his neck and across his shoulders. “If the Chinese can do it,” he said, “so can I."

  They made their way slowly, stepping cautiously to avoid sharp rocks in the creek bed.

  “We're in luck,” Greta squealed when they covered half a mile.

  Maggie and Frank looked in the direction of Greta's pointing finger and saw a sharp bend in the creek. To the left of the bend was a swampy area of still water.

  “Perfect!” Maggie exclaimed.

  Frank was a quick learner and, although Maggie's dishpan he was using didn't work as well as the specially made pans used by the girls, he was the first to find a few flakes of gold. The site turned out to be loaded with gold flakes and several nuggets. By five o'clock, they filled three baby food jars with flakes and half a coffee can with nuggets. The next hour, however, turned up only one additional flake.

&
nbsp; “I've had enough,” Frank said. “Every muscle in my body is aching. I don't know how you ladies can stand it."

  “Excuses, excuses,” Maggie chided. “The truth is, you have a hot date tonight and you don't want to be late."

  “That, too,” Frank admitted.

  “Who are you dating?” Greta asked as the Blazer headed back to the Dollar's house. “Or is it none of my business?"

  “June Dinkins,” Frank answered. “One of the waitresses at Dot's Diner."

  “Oh, I know her. Kind of a mousy little thing with pimples."

  Frank shot her a dirty look and said, “Careful. You're speaking of my future wife."

  “I ... I just meant she seems a little bashful. I'm sure she's very nice.” Sorry, Miz Jenkins, she thought. He wasn't interested anyway—never did look at my boobs.

  “Let's change the subject,” Maggie joked. “I've heard all I can stomach about June Dinkins."

  “Okay,” Frank agreed. “We wound up with a lot of gold today. How much do you think it's worth?"

  “I don't know,” Maggie replied with a twinge of chagrin in her voice. “That's one aspect of our project I haven't looked into. There must be somebody in Charlotte who will give us a fair price."

  “Do you have to melt the gold down to sell it?” Frank asked.

  “Damn it, Frank. I told you I haven't investigated that yet."

  They rode in silence for thirty minutes, each engrossed in private thoughts and concerns.

  “Oh, my God!” Maggie suddenly exclaimed.

  Frank and Greta looked up. The Dollars’ house was now in sight and there were deputy cars parked all over the front yard. As they drew closer, they could see a large number of men and a scattering of women gathered near the front porch.

  “Something awful has happened!” Greta gasped.

  Maggie set the parking brake and the three piled out of the Blazer. She spotted Borders standing apart from the crowd and rushed to him with her companions on her heels.

  “Little boy's missing,” Borders explained. “Been gone most of the day. Mrs. Dollar thought he might have gone to the spring on the other side of that hill,” Borders said as he pointed, “but she and Tim searched the area and came up empty. We're forming a search party now and would appreciate any help you can give us."