On a Rainy Night in Georgia

by Olivia Gaines

  “I thought you said your Dad was a cop?”

  “He is. He is a Federal one who is still pissed that Jedidiah Macklemore nearly shot him twenty years ago. He only needed an excuse to come in full force and go after them. You just gave him one − a grandchild in danger,” he said.

  Day Twelve – Son of a Snake

  IT HAS BEEN RAINING for twelve damned days. She is so close to delivery. Maybe she gave birth and both of them are dead. I really wanted to see that baby; now I may have to bury it. Damn this rain. I should have not left them, but moved them somewhere else. I left her a blanket, but it was out of her reach. Bitch. Never talking to me. Treating me like I wasn’t anything but a piece of shit.

  Jimmy Don paced back and forth in front of the window as the rain started to slow. The few roads which were open would be a mess and the old hunting shack was completely off the beaten path. If he could get up into the wood line, he would use a hatchet to chop through the broken limbs and branches to get to the crumbling structure.

  I know I didn’t leave her enough firewood. She is probably full of infection. The milk ain’t gon’ be no good and that little sweet baby is gon’ die of p-nuemonie, or worse. The thoughts ran through his head like a bad replay of a fumbled football in the championship game. Normally he didn’t feel bad about how he treated women, but she was different. A class act and strong. As much as he tried to break her, he wasn’t able.

  She wouldn’t each much of the food he’d brought.

  At one point, she drank her own urine to avoid the water he wanted to give her, but after seeing that, he stopped drugging the bottles. He still considered her to be a bitch for laughing at the size of his Johnson, but she didn’t know that Harley’s was about the same size. Genetics was funny like that. However, it was no cause for her to be rude.

  “Jimmy Don, what’s ailing you?” Harley Macklemore asked him. He’d kept a close eye on his brother since the fire in his laundromat. Everything in his soul told him the lowdown son of a snake had done something to Aisha Miller, yet he had no proof. No evidence. Several times when his brother eased out the back door, he tried to follow him, but lost Jimmy Don’s trail as he went up in the mountains. It made him sick to his stomach that she could be out there somewhere, suffering at that asshole’s hand.

  “Get off my back, Harley! Jeez-Zuz on the Cross. You keep prattling on and fawning over me like some sick ole’ woman. Maybe you need to find you a new girl to help you get over the one who left you high and dry,” Jimmy Don said through tobacco-stained teeth.

  “Or maybe you should ‘fess up and tell me what happened to Aisha. It would be nice to figure out how you rigged all those dryers to ignite long enough for you to go and hide her up in those mountains,” Harley said, moving closer to him, daring him to lie to his face.

  Jimmy Don turned his head away.

  “Paw? Tell Harley to get off my back about that split tail gal who changed her mind about marrying his whining, nagging ass!”

  Jedidiah Macklemore leaned forward in the old rocker, spitting a mouthful of black, tobacco-laden saliva into a spittoon. “Harley, leave your brother alone now, ya hear?”

  “Paw, I know he did something to her and if he did, he needs to let us know. If he’s hid her or worse and she gets free in this weather, once those roads open, the law is going to come down on all of us – me included,” Harley said. “I’ve done my best to provide you businesses to funnel through some of that cash, but she was mine. If he took her, I hope it all comes crashing down on your heads for aiding his sick addiction.”

  He didn’t have time to duck as the spittoon that came hurling at his head, covering him with a week’s worth of stale blackened drool. Harley was disgusted with all of them.

  “Don’t go talking like that, especially over a piece of ass,” Jedidiah said to him. “Jimmy Don, may God have mercy on your coal-covered soul if you took that gal of Harley’s. I know you get jealous-hearted, but she weren’t yourns to take and keep.”

  “You are always siding with Harley. He can be as wrong as high heel red shoes on a mule and you always take his side,” Jimmy Don said, pouting like a nine-year-old.

  “It ain’t a matter of sides here boy, but right and wrong. You’re wrong if you took that gal he planned to marry. There are tons of women flooded through here eve’r month, and you can have your choice of ‘em, but taking the one he’s spent time courting is just wrong,” Jedidiah said to him. “Now ‘fess up if you done did something you don’t know how to get yourself out of.”

  Jimmy Don was more incensed than ever before. It always went this way, whether he was right, wrong or plain indifferent. His Paw always sided with Harley. That’s why he took her, to make his brother suffer. Just as he had suffered his entire life in his shadow. A hardened heart answered them both.

  “As I said before, I went to the airport to pick her up and she weren’t there. Case closed,” he said, getting his hat and heading for the door. A new crop of women had been brought through and he planned to get his wick wet in some fresh wax. Damned them all, Aisha Miller and the little bastard. He hoped she died in childbirth trying to deliver. As soon as the leaves dried, he would burn the shack and her in it if need be.

  Day Thirteen – Sunshine and Fabric Bins

  THE MORNING RAYS OF sunshine broke through the trees like an elephant discovering a fresh pond of water after journeying across the savannah. The sunshine gave new energy to Tameka, who sprang from the couch to make coffee with hopes of getting started on the redecorating and upholstery projects. The plaid chair was first on her list, along with new curtains and couple of new cushions for Zeke’s back when he sat down to read. Hope filled her entire body when he crawled out of the bedroom, looking as if he’d been out all night drinking with the boys.

  She handed him a cup of coffee, a kiss on the cheek, and cheerful good morning.

  “Oh, shut up,” he said, scowling at her.

  “You are not going to bring me down this morning, Ezekiel Neary. It has been nearly two weeks of nothing but rain. I have also finally stopped dripping like some tapped maple tree and I am ready to get to work,” she said.

  “Bad analogy. Really bad analogy and now I want pancakes,” he said, holding the cup coffee.

  “I can make those, not from scratch, but a mix where you add water,” she said smiling.

  Two weeks and she seemed like a totally different person. Michelle began to cry for her bottle bringing Tameka’s eyes to take in her husband again. He didn’t seem like he was capable of making any multi-layered decisions this morning, so she offered him the easier duty.

  “Change and feed and I will feed you,” she said, picking up her daughter and handing the baby to Zeke.

  “Not fair. I can make pancakes, from scratch if need be. You can change and feed our daughter, and I will try not to burn myself,” he said, handing the baby back.

  “Fine, but I would like to see what’s in those bins in the garage this morning. I am also ready to strip down this ugly plaid chair and make a few cushions and some curtains to liven up this place,” she said, almost sounding manic.

  “Tameka, are you okay?”

  She smiled at him again. “I am more than okay. I spent eleven months hiding in my head, reupholstering chairs and couches and making curtains and picture frames and preserves and all sorts of things. Today, I actually get to use my hands and do something,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m excited, that’s all. It is too much?”

  “Yeah, just a bit. I need to wake up before I’m hit with all that joie de vivre,” he said, staring out the window. The sound of a small engine could be heard as he held up his hand for her to be quiet. He hoped it was Nathaniel, but just in case he darted to the bedroom to grab his weapon.

  “Hey ho there Nearys,” Nathaniel called out. “Morning, morning.”

  Stepping up on the porch, he tapped at the door to be greeted by Zeke’s unsmiling face. “Just what I need, two of you happy morning people,” Zeke grumbled as
he let Nathaniel in the door.

  “Whoa! I come bearing gifts, more diapers, formula, and documents,” he said looking over at the kitchen. “Hey coffee!”

  Walking past Zeke, he threw a hand up to Tameka, mumbled a coochie-coo to the baby, and poured himself a cup of coffee in a crooked mug.

  “What is up with these mugs? Did you and your brothers make them in summer camp or something?” he asked, sipping on the coffee. “This is good java. I know you didn’t make it Zeke.”

  “I said the same thing about the mugs, but his Mom made them,” Tameka said, smiling. “He said there is a kiln. I plan to fire it up next week and make some decent coffee mugs.”

  “You’re feeling a whole lot better,” Mann said, watching her happy go lucky attitude. It felt off to him.

  “Shit, wouldn’t you?”

  “I don’t know how to react to you. I mean, I fully expected you to be sitting in the corner, staring out the window and drooling on yourself,” Man said.

  “Shows what you know about women. I am too strong for that and too grateful to waste the gift I’ve be given by sitting in a pity pool for what that inbred fool tried to take from me,” she said. “Plus, I get to reupholster this ugly furniture!”

  “Well, there ya go,” he said, patting the large manila envelope he had laid on the table. With Michelle now changed and a fresh bottle in hand, she gave the baby to Mann, and she opened the packet. Out fell a birth certificate for one Michelle Marie Neary, a social security card for both her and the little one, a few credit cards, and a driver’s license. She looked at the picture closely. Her low cut hair was flattering to her face with the pop of color to her lips that almost brought a smile until she looked at the name on the license.

  “Tameka SheNanay Neary!” she said, turning to face Zeke, who started to laugh. A hearty laugh that came from the bottom of his belly. “SheNanay? Are you frickin’ kidding me?”

  “Baby,” Zeke said, holding up one hand. “In my defense, you came through that door looking like a smelly mama Yeti, yelling ‘Oh my goooodneess,’ and all I could think of was SheNanay!”

  Mann head was lowered over Michelle, but his body wracked with laughter. The description was about on point even though Zeke had cleaned her up a great deal by the time Mann had arrived.

  Tameka turned her outrage to her husband’s new best buddy. “What are you laughing at, Nate?”

  “It’s true. He had treated your wounds, but them claws on your feet looked like you could climb a tree with your toes,” Mann said, laughing harder. “It was bad, Tameka, and you did smell, and he had washed off a layer of funk.”

  “Oh!” she said in a huff.

  “I’m sorry, Baby, but we were in shock at the sight of you. Mann had to use your own body as a dialysis machine, pumping in two pints of blood and an IV at the same time,” Zeke said in his defense.

  “Well, I guess I should thank you for saving my life,” she said softly to Mann.

  “No, you be thankful that you didn’t try to make it to my place. Sharon would have shot you and claimed she’d taken down Lady Bigfoot,” he said, laughing harder.

  “See, for a second there, I almost liked you,” she told him, taking Michelle from his arms and moving into the back room.

  “Hey, Tameka! I brought you a purse and wallet to hold your new ID’s,” Mann called.

  “Suck an egg, Nate,” she called back.

  Zeke was still laughing as Mann grew quiet. They needed to discuss how she was handling her trauma. “She is a feisty one,” Mann said.

  “That is an understatement. I already figured that Jimmy Don didn’t know what to do with the likes of her. Hell, neither do I, but it sure is going to make for an interesting life,” Zeke said.

  In a lowered tone, Mann asked, “So, you’re planning to stay married to her?”

  “Yep and add two rooms and another bathroom to this house. She wants to build a bigger table so when you Sharon and the kids come over for dinner, there is plenty of room,” he told Mann, waiting for his reaction.

  Mann turned down his mouth in surprise. It seemed to him that both of them were hiding from the real world finding solace in each other from an ugliness which wanted to encapsulated their realities. The idea would either work out really well, or turn really ugly when the anger of what happened to her hit. Instead, he went along.

  “I have heavy excavating equipment to dig out the foundation, a concrete mixer, and everything else you could ask for at my place,” Mann said.

  “Would it be too much to ask you for your help? I have a bad shoulder, a bum leg, and a limited budget.”

  “You’re not planning to return to the job?”

  “Nah. I’m no desk jockey and after eight years in the White House, sitting behind a table trying to root out would be subversives will be a letdown. I can find something else to make a few bucks to keep us going,” he said. “Hey, what is it you do?”

  “I’m a hit man,” Mann told him.

  “Oh, okay then,” Zeke said, squinting his eyes.

  “Flexible hours, three maybe four jobs a year, and nobody fucks with me,” he said. Zeke said nothing as he poured them both more coffee and he took out the pancake mix. He was still a Federal Officer and the less he knew until he turned in his official resignation the better.

  “No questions?” he asked Zeke.

  “If I asked and you told me, it would make me an accessory after the fact − so no, I don’t want nor need to know.”

  “I will let you know this though,” Mann said softly. “My actual father, not the one who adopted me, I heard was in cahoots with these hillbillies. The workings of the Macklemores are rumored to be filtered through one of those shell companies and an organization who sells the products in which they produce or resell. I’m bound by contract to not intervene, interfere, or open my mouth.”

  “You just opened your mouth,” Zeke said.

  “No, I told my friend about a rumored circumstance I heard about in these hills. I never told my new buddy my birth father’s name, the title of the shell company out of New York and Chicago, nor mentioned the shipping ports they use in Charleston, Tybee Island, and the back side of the Great Lakes,” Mann said.

  “That’s a lot for me not to hear,” Zeke said.

  “Yep. Pancakes sound good as well. I hope you have maple syrup,” Mann said, not turning around yet knowing that Tameka in bare feet had come back into the room.

  “Impressive,” Zeke said to him as he watched his wife move silently, not making a sound, but Mann had heard her before she even rounded the corner.

  “I’m very good at my job,” Mann said with a wink.

  “I just bet you are,” Zeke told him.

  IT TOOK MUCH OF THE afternoon to get through the damp garage and place the containers on the covered back porch. While Zeke worked in the out building, Tameka worked on the front porch and overrun planters, pulling out the weeds. It was cool outside, but she was tired of being cooped up indoors. Freedom wasn’t free and she wanted to move about, not too much or too far, but a moment outside in fresh air. Crisp, clean air, washed down by rain. Her eyes went to the woodline, watching for potential hiding places. Rubbing her hands, she needed to get a pair of gloves.

  She’d located an old pair of gardening gloves under the kitchen sink along with a few hand tools that she used to clear off the overgrowth. The porch held two large rockers in dire need of a couple of cushions, and if Zeke had in fact brought new stuffing for the couch, she could use the old foam forms to craft out cushions for the rockers.

  Michelle’s soft cry snapped her out of the dream state she was in on the porch, bringing her back inside to sit with her child. Warming her hands by the fire, she scrubbed under her nails, drying her hands before picking up the baby, whose soft whimpers had turned to ‘feed me now woman’ squalls.

  “There, there little one, I am here. How about I tell you the story of the three pigs who were run out of their neighborhood due to gentrification by of the wolves of the
world? Yes, my darling, they were doing well, but had to move out to a high rent area where they couldn’t afford the taxes and the first little pig had to resort to building his house out of straw,” she told Michelle as she placed the nipple of the bottle into her eager little mouth.

  “Then out of nowhere comes this greedy capitalist wolf, who tells the little pig, you can’t build your house out of straw in this part of town. The pig said, ‘Go away, you big brute! Leave me alone!’ However, the wolf threatened him with an eviction notice, yes, he did. Yes, he did, my darling little puddle butt. He said get your little piggy ass out of here or I will tear your ramshackle house down, you curly-tailed, hooved-foot, pink little fool,” she said.

  Zeke had come into the back door and stood with his mouth wide open in horror listening to the demented story time.

  “The wolf then huffed and puffed like he was an asthmatic, and said, ‘Let me in. I’m not going to tell you again.’ Then that hairy, rotten tooth wolf opened his mouth wide, exhaling two lungs full of wolf breath, making the little pig gag, and then he stuck out his claws, coming at the little pig, trying to have a ham sandwich, but the little pig had a switchblade and he was about to slice that muther...,”

  “Dear Jesus, stop!” Zeke said. “For the sake of all that is holy, stop it. What kind of story is that for a child? Shit, you just traumatized me!”

  “Oh Zeke, it doesn’t matter what I say, it is the tone in which I say it. It is the softness in my voice she responds to, plus she’s heard this one before. You should hear the one about Goldilocks and the Bear who tried to hold her captive,” she said, looking up at him with a smile.

  “What in the entire hell, Tameka?”

  She burst into laughter. She laughed hard, falling back on the couch cradling Michelle to her breast. It was those stories which kept her sane and made her laugh to herself. The look on his face was priceless as she roared with mirth. When her laughter stopped, he was still standing there, gawking at her.