“That she parks her car at the Holiday Inn and gets in his car,” the Judge said, a devilish light in his eyes.
“And who told you that?”
“One of the maids at the motel told Harly Mahew’s housekeeper, who told our housekeeper. Didn’t know Sela liked Wynfield.”
“I didn’t know that either, Judge. Well, they’re both over twenty-one and can do as they please. I imagine both of them are lonely. I’m sure it’s nothing more than a dinner or luncheon. Or breakfast,” she said lamely.
“I expect so,” Judge Summers said. “Nela and I are going up to Columbia for a few days. She wants to see her sister—can’t imagine why. She’s a harpy if there ever was one. I can give you the phone number in case you might need me. I can come right back here the moment you call.” He sounds, Brie thought, like he wants me to call so he can come back and do whatever he does to pass the time.
“I’ll try not to call unless it’s an emergency. How are your memoirs coming along?”
“The memoirs are going slowly. Nela keeps reading over my shoulder telling me I can’t put things in because other people will take offense. If I listen to her, all I’ll have in the end is my name on the first page.”
Brie pocketed the phone number, kissed the Judge, and left the house, knowing her life had been enriched because of the weary old man watching her from the doorway. “I wish people didn’t have to get old and die. I wish I could have yesterday back,” Brie muttered as she started the car’s engine.
At the convalescent home, Brie busied herself by putting Callie’s clean laundry away, adjusting the shades in the room, fingering the new curtains Arquette’s wife had hung several days earlier. She wiped down the dresser and the bathroom sink with Lysol. The camellias were dying, their petals wilted on the windowsill. She threw them out, washed the vase, and added the ones she’d picked before leaving Parker Manor. These were pink, delicate, almost translucent, like the young woman lying in the bed.
Brie settled herself, reached for Callie’s hand. “It’s Brie, Callie. I’ll be sitting with you today. Pearl is under the weather, and she’s staying in bed. Actually, I think Pearl is ill. She doesn’t want you to know. She doesn’t want Bode to know either. I wonder, Callie, if you’d wake up if you heard Bode’s voice. I want to call him, so does Sela, but Pearl won’t permit it. I don’t have the guts to defy her; neither does Sela.
“I stopped by to see the Judge this morning. He’s upset because he has to go with Miss Nela up to Columbia. Poor dear, he’s lost since he retired. He’s getting old, Callie, just the way Pearl is getting old. It breaks my heart. I wish I could do something, stop the clock, make time stand still. I want yesterday so bad I can taste it.
“I don’t know if you want to know this or not, but I’m going to tell you anyway. You did tell Pearl you were calling the marriage off, so I guess you won’t mind. The Judge told me Sela has been seeing Wyn. I think she finally found her niche. She’s got the personality to be a real-estate agent, and the fact that she’s selling commercial real estate and dealing mostly with men is something she thrives on. I don’t mean she’s loose as a goose or anything like that. Both of us know Sela is a big flirt, but for the most part that’s all she does. I don’t know how I’m going to feel about Sela if what the Judge said is true. I mean, she has a right to see whomever she wants. I know she’s lonely and she is working very hard. She hasn’t said anything to me, and I can’t very well say anything to her. She knows how I feel about Wyn; Pearl too. Guess that’s why she’s keeping quiet.
“I said a prayer last night that Bode would call. I think about Bode a lot—more than I should. It’s almost as if Bode has all the answers and only he can make things right. How did it happen that we all felt like that? I still feel that way so that doesn’t say much for me.
“Do you remember that time we were playing dress-up? It was raining, and Pearl said we could play in the attic. All your grandmother’s wonderful dresses were up there. There was even an old Confederate uniform Bode put on. We made a fort under the eaves and called it Fort Parker. Bode was going to defend us to the death if the damn Yankees came for us. Remember how Pearl brought us up some of those cinnamon cakes and she let Bode tie her onto the chair? God, I can’t believe she let us do that. I think you were supposed to be a shrinking violet and Sela and I were the servants. You had an attack of the vapors. Bode was out scouting the terrain on the other side of the attic and just when those damn Yankees were about to set foot on Parker land he was going to shoot all of them with the broom. He swore to us he wouldn’t let them take the womenfolk. I can’t remember why we tied Pearl up though. Damn, now that’s going to bother me all day. You did the perfect faint, crinoline and all. Bode was all fouled up; should he go after the soldiers or see to you in your faint? I knew he would see to you first and they’d capture him. We, the servants, outwitted those damn Yankees and saved your butt; Bode’s too. You got mad at us that day and told me and Sela to go home. Pearl smacked your bottom and sent you to your room. Sometimes you were a real snot, Callie. We knew it was because of Bode. You wanted him to like you best, and he did. Sela and I knew that. You had so much then—Pear!, Bode, the Judge, all those fine people who looked after you when your father died.
“It’s going to be Valentine’s Day soon. I bet Bode sends you a Valentine. He never forgets. One of these days I’m going to send him a real mushy one just for the fun of it. No, I’m not going to do any such thing. I don’t even know why I brought that up. To have something to say. I know I have to keep talking. I know you can hear me. It’s been so long, Callie. None of us knows what to do for you anymore. We come here, we change your nightgown, we watch that stuff drip into your arms, we brush your hair, put a ribbon in it, change your socks, rub your legs. It isn’t helping. Please open your eyes. Look at me and say, ‘Hi, Brie. How’s it going?’ I would love to hear you say that, Callie, more than anything in the world. Do it. Damn you, Callie, do it! Move your fingers, roll your eyes, open your mouth. Do something! Do you hear me, Callie?
“You need to think about Wyn and Sela. What if they decide to get married? I know that sounds kind of far-fetched, but it could happen. Sela’s a free spirits. What that means is, Wyn got away with it all, and I know he was driving that car, Callie. I know it as sure as I’m sitting here. They’d have Parker Manor and all the land, and you’re here refusing to wake up. Are you going to let that happen? Well—are you? I know Sela, she doesn’t think she’s doing anything wrong. In a way she isn’t.
“Callie, I’ve said this before, and I’m going to keep saying it every day that I come here. You’re on Medicaid. You’re a ward of the state. You have zip. You were sued for a hundred million dollars. If you wake up, you can set things straight. Do it, Callie. For me, for Bode, for Pearl. What’s going to happen to you if Pearl is really sick and she dies? Sela is going to be with Wyn, I feel it in my bones. I’m going to have to go back to Atlanta. Bode’s gone. You’re going to be alone. You’ve never been alone, Callie. You can’t get by on your own. You need Pearl and the rest of us. I hate to say this, but you’re draining our life’s blood. Callie, wake up! Please. I’m not going to say another word. I’m going to sit here and stare at you and will you to wake up. So there.”
She meant to sit there and stare at her friend, but she was so exhausted she drifted off to sleep.
Bode Jessup looked up from his legal pad to stare out the window. The camellias back home would be in full bloom. The ache in his chest was so alive he felt like he was going to choke. He threw the pencil he was holding across the room, then picked up the phone and called Parker Manor. He felt giddy, light-headed when he heard Mama Pearl’s voice. For a moment he couldn’t get his tongue to work. “It’s Bode, Mama Pearl.”
“I knowed you was going to call me today, Bode. Are you calling to tell me you’re to be a judge, Bode?”
“Not yet, Mama Pearl. I have a long way to go before that ever happens. How are you?”
“Jest fine, Bode, now that you called
me. I worry about you, honey.”
“Mama Pearl, what are you doing at Parker Manor? I’ve been calling off and on for some time now and there’s never an answer. In Beaufort they say you don’t live there. Then when I call this number you don’t reply. Is something going on I should know about?” There was such fear in Bode’s voice that Pearl rushed to reassure her boy.
“Miz Callie didn’t want to live in Beaufort,” she explained. “Miz Sela came back here to live. Arquette had fixed up one of the rooms for her. Sela has a job as a real-estate agent and she is helping me around the house. I couldn’t sleep in another bed ’cepting my own and you know that, chile,” Pearl explained in her familiar, comforting voice. “Miz Brie is leaving soon to go back to her FBI work. It’s just a visit, Bode. I don’t want you to worry about Pearl.”
“I’m the one who is supposed to worry, not you. Is everyone okay?”
“Everything be jest fine, Bode. I need to be thanking you for them fine Christmas presents you sent to me and to Arquette and Coletta. That washing machine and that clothes-dry machine made them so happy. And all that soap . . . my, oh my, Coletta was so happy she didn’t quite know what to do. That purse you sent me and that new string bag, they jest made my old eyes fill up. You’re such a good boy, Bode. There was no need for you to be spending all your money on us. We didn’t know where to send a present to you. Miz Brie, she say we should jest put your presents on the shelf and wait till you come home and then we can give them to you. She’s a big help to me; Miz Sela, too. Will you be coming home soon, Bode?”
“I’ll try, Mama Pearl. Are the camellias blooming?” he asked wistfully.
“They be so pretty this year, they fair take your breath away. Every day I pick some. The pink ones are the prettiest this year. I know you like the red ones the best. I put some in your room. It pretties it up some. I know you don’t live here no more, but it makes me remember when you did. I feel my eyes puddling up, chile.”
“Don’t cry over me, Mama Pearl,” Bode said, with a catch in his voice. “Is Arquette watching over you?”
“Lord, yes. Everybody watches over Pearl. I cain’t get used to all this fussing. The Judge, he comes by, gives me money, Miz Sela cooks a fair amount and Miz Brie she takes real good care of me. She say it’s her turn now. Pearl’s jest fine, chile.”
“I love you, Mama Pearl,” Bode said gruffly.
“I know that. And I love you as much as I love the Lord. You be a good boy now, you hear Pearl?”
“I hear you, Mama Pearl,” Bode whispered into the phone. “Take care of yourself. Say hello to the girls for me.”
“You can be sure Pearl will send along your best regards.”
Bode was staring out the window, his hands jammed into his hip pockets as he rocked back and forth on his heels. His eyes were misty with unshed tears. He’d been standing here for a long time. Too long.
“Bode?”
“Yeah, Hatch,” Bode said, without turning around.
“I have something for you.”
“Hatch, I’m full up I couldn’t squeeze in another case if it was the Queen Mother.”
“This is better than the Queen Mother.”
Bode turned. He knew what it was before Hatch handed it to him.
“Your plane leaves in an hour. I called your housekeeper and she brought over your bag; it’s waiting by the front door. She said it was all packed, like you were maybe expecting to leave on a moment’s notice. I clocked you standing by that window. I can see you from my window. I knew it was time.”
Bode stared down at the files on his desk. “Hatch, I can’t. It’s a nice, wonderful gesture, but I can’t just up and leave. Do you really think I’m that irresponsible?”
“No, but I am. Hey, I own this firm. Watch this!” A moment later the stack of files were in the air, papers fluttering every which way. “See, now you can’t possibly make sense of all of this. Your only alternative is to let me do it, so I’d get shaking if I were you. Listen, Bode, this office will always be here. The offer is forever. Your call, old buddy. You aren’t going to goddamn blubber now, are you? I hate it when you get mushy on me. Go on, get the hell out of here before I change my mind.”
“Hatch . . .”
“Yeah, I know, I’m salt of the earth, your best friend, and you aren’t ever going to find one better . . . One thing, Bode.”
“Yeah?”
“Let me know how it’s going. If you need anything, just ask. I’m a phone call away.” Bode nodded. “You’re getting all sloppy-eyed—I can see it from here. Harry’s waiting in his new carrier by your bag, and he’ll probably have destroyed it by now.”
“Look at yourself in the mirror, you big dumb Indian, and tell me who’s sloppy-eyed. I’ll see you, Hatch.”
“Damn right you will. Time is money, Bode, so get moving.”
Hatch watched from Bode’s window until the cab he’d called was out of sight. He felt like a mother hen whose chick came home to check on the barnyard.
Hatch bellowed to Bode’s secretary. “Clean up this mess,” he requested. “Get me two paralegals and have them and these files in my office by three this afternoon. I have no idea what got into that crazy guy,” he said, strolling out of the office.
16
“Just drop me off here,” Bode told the cab driver. “I’ll walk the rest of the way.”
It was chilly and he shivered, but not with cold, with apprehension. Where to go first? The Judge’s house, of course. He needed to do some man-to-man talking before he headed for Parker Manor.
His backpack secure on his shoulders, Bode loped ahead at a half run, half jog, Harry in his arms, his sneakers slapping on the asphalt road. Three times people stopped to offer him a ride. He declined, not because he didn’t know the people, who were just being friendly, but because he wanted to savor the feeling of being home again. It was home, it would always be home, but in a different way now.
Thanks to Hatch Littletree, he had a new life now. He was going to prosper whether he liked it or not. For the first time in his life he owned something besides his bicycle and old car. And he had Harry. He had a pension fund, health insurance, a more than satisfactory bank account, and in his pocket was the last payment to Judge Avery. He was rich beyond his wildest dreams. He didn’t think anything could top that until last week when he heard Hatch tell one of the senior partners that he, Bowdey Malcolm Jessup, was the best goddamn lawyer ever to enter a courtroom, next to himself. He remembered how his chest had puffed out.
Rich because he had four people who believed in him so totally, so completely, that he thanked God for it every night. Mama Pearl, the Judge, Hatch and, of course, Brie Canfield. Good old Brie. If he needed a dollar and she had only fifty cents she’d borrow the other fifty cents to give him. That wasn’t to say Callie or Sela wouldn’t help him; they would, but it wasn’t the same with them.
He wondered how Callie and Wyn were doing and if they had a baby on the way yet. What kind of mother would Callie make? He wasn’t sure. She had a selfish streak in her. He thought about all the unintentional hurts she’d laid on him in childhood. At least, he was almost certain they were unintentional. Of course, she always apologized with tears in her eyes. And he accepted because she was Callie Parker and because of Clemson Parker he had Mama Pearl and a good life.
For a while, he had thought he loved Callie Parker and then for a little space in time, he had thought he loved Sela. One day he thought he was sure about his feelings for tomboy Brie, who looked into his eyes with such steady intensity; the next day he was unsure. He cringed when he remembered her graduation. He called himself every kind of fool in the world. What would have happened if he’d taken her up on her offer? Would his life have changed? Would hers?
Wind rushed at him, driving him backward. Overhead the trees, dark skeletons in the night, waved their angry, wicked-looking arms. It felt like Hallowe’en for some reason.
Everything about this place was a memory. Everything.
; Callie. He’d left here because of her. Left because he couldn’t bear to see her married to another man. It had been a mistake to offer her a job. He hadn’t thought it through, what it would mean working side by side with her. If he’d been more certain of his feelings, he wouldn’t have botched things up and then run like a jackrabbit. The only time he felt he had to stay in his place was when he was with Callie. For so long it had hurt, and that hurt had started to fester and boil over.
But finally he was free of Callie Parker’s hold on him. He’d paid his debt a hundred times over—with Brie’s help. It was funny, he thought. He’d never felt like he owed Brie. Why was that? Because Brie was special.
That day she’d barreled into the airport had given him nightmares for weeks afterward. She’d needed to get the edge that day; the gun just made it possible. They both knew that, too. She must be one hell of a cop. She always gave one hundred and ten percent to everything she did. Good old Brie.
The coach light at the end of the walkway was burning. The porch light, too. Maybe the Judge was expecting company. Maybe he was in tune with him in some way, and knew he was about to have a visitor. Maybe a lot of things. He rang the doorbell.
Judge Avery was in his bathrobe, his pajama collar standing up around his neck. A cigar that had gone out a long time ago was clutched between his teeth; his spectacles were halfway down his nose. He looks, Bode thought, like Colonel Sanders in the Kentucky Fried Chicken ads.
There were no immediate greetings. The Judge yanked him into the house and closed the door. He put his fingers to his lips and motioned Bode to follow him to the back of the house to his office. Inside, with the door safely closed, he put his arm around Bode and smacked him on the back, waking Harry, who let out a small bark and wriggled his tiny head out through Bode’s jacket. “Howdy, little fella,” the Judge said, surprised, then he looked Bode full in the face.
“I had a feeling you’d be showing up,” he said gruffly. “I’ve been stalling Nela, hoping I was right. She wants to go visit that fool sister of hers in Columbia again. You look mighty fine Bode. Mighty fine. I spent a lot of time thinking about you these past few months. Can’t say I approve of the way you did things, but it isn’t my place to criticize. I might have done the same thing if I was in your place. Sit down, son. Sit, sit. I’m going to fetch us some nice cold beer and we’re going to talk.”
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