by Nancy Moser
Jered's stomach grabbed, but he tried to ignore it. “Is that it?”
“He'll give you some money.”
“How much?”
“Five hundred. Cash.”
Five hundred?
“Get the money first, then let him load the boxes. Ten. Just ten.”
Jered had learned that lesson the hard way. “But what if—?”
“What if nothing. I need you to do this. Act strong. Act tough. Pretend you know what you're doing, and it'll flow. Act like a wimpy loser, and you'll have problems.”
I'll…I'll be fine.”
“I know you will, kid. That's why I'm trusting you.”
“When's he supposed to come by?”
“Within a half hour. Just hang around in the house. Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge. I'll make it worth your while, kid.”
Another fifty? “Don't worry about a thing. I've got it covered.”
Jered hung up. More boxes changing hands. He'd wondered about the DVD players in the garage. Boxes in, boxes out, money in, money out. Must be the way of the world.
Jered opened the refrigerator and made himself a sandwich from some cold cuts and cheese. He found a bag of chips in the pantry. He wandered through the house as he ate.
Jinko had nice things. Expensive things. Leather couches, modern-looking statues made of glass, an entertainment center full of shelves and drawers and stocked with a widescreen TV that was at least a forty-eight-incher. DVD player, VCR, Bose sound system. Not bad. But best was a grand piano. Jered ran his hands along the keys. He wished he could play like Billy Joel or Elton John. That would be so cool.
But it wasn't just the things that were nice. The place was clean. Beyond clean. Even the magazines on the coffee table lined up. The cord to a pair of headphones displayed a perfect circle. The DVDs were in alphabetical order. Obsessive. Yet in a way it made sense. The order of the house matched the order of the man. Jinko may have worn slightly funky clothes—he seemed to prefer all black with a heavy necklace—but he was always perfect. Not a ponytailed hair out of place. Same with his car. Same with Palambas.
After finishing his sandwich, Jered picked a fallen crumb from an Oriental rug. He started in on the chips, opening drawers and cupboard doors as he strolled. Most were what he expected: more DVDs, CDs, some cassettes.
But one drawer was more interesting. It was full of jewelry. Rings, necklaces, pins. Lots of women's stuff. A man's watch caught his eye. On the back was inscribed, “To Bobby, with love, Sue.” This wasn't Jinko's watch. None of this was Jinko's jewelry.
Jinko is a crook.
The booze incident, this jewelry, and in a few minutes the DVD players… Three strikes, you're out.
Or in.
And yet…so what? Jered didn't know who the stuff belonged to. It wasn't his business. The only loyalty he had was to his own survival. And at the moment Jinko was a big part of that survival.
Jered started when the doorbell rang. He tossed the watch in the drawer and went to answer it.
The guy with the black beard must have been six foot six. Jered only came up to his shoulders. “Jinko here?”
“Uh, he couldn't make it. I'm supposed to help you.”
The man gave Jered the once-over, and for the hundredth time he wished he had some beef on him. He felt like a wimpy T-ball kid next to a pro.
“Well?”
Jered didn't think Jinko would want the man inside, so he joined him out front, and the two of them headed to the garage. The man's car was already backed up, the trunk open and ready. Jered noticed him look around the neighborhood. Good idea. It was a quiet Sunday morning, but just the same, Jered waited until a car full of a Sunday-dressed family drove by before he opened the garage door.
The man headed for the boxes and took two back to his car.
Get the money first. “I…” Jered cleared his throat and tried to put some power in it. “Slow down. You owe Jinko five hundred. Money first.”
The man stopped on his way back for a second load and smiled. “He got you trained, don't he?” He fished a wad out of his pocket and smacked it into Jered's hand. “Now help so I can get outta here.”
Jered remembered that only ten machines were to be taken. When the man started taking another two, Jered stepped in his way. “Ten. Jinko said ten.”
The man backed off, his hands raised. “Hey, I musta miscounted.” His eyes flashed past Jered, then he pointed. “When'd he get those Palm dealies, those PDAs?”
Jered knew there was a stack near the paint shelf. “I don't know.”
“I want some of those, too. How much?”
Jered had no idea. “You need to talk to—”
The man shoved past Jered and took one.
“I told you I don't know how much—”
The man pulled another bill from his pocket, glanced at it, and gave it to Jered. “Here's a twenty for your trouble. What Jinko don't know—”
“But he will know.”
He shrugged. “Not if you don't tell 'im.” He left the garage, shutting his trunk. “Nice doin business wid you, kid.”
Jered closed the garage door and stared at Andrew Jackson's face. He pocketed the money and headed for the house to take a shower.
Another twenty. For looking the other way. Easy work.
Jered sat on his cot and tied his shoes. His eyes kept looking at the stack of PDAs. There was a definite hole where one had been.
He got up and rearranged the boxes, overlapping the top row over the bottom so they weren't so perfectly lined up, so the hole was filled.
Better.
He had to get to work.
He was forty-five minutes late. Dishes were piling up.
“Where you been?” Vasylko asked. “Hop, hop. Do job.”
Jered put on his apron and got to it, the five hundred burning through his pocket. Actually, the other pocket—with his fifty and new twenty—was doing a pretty good job of heating up, too. As he worked he looked for Jinko. He wanted to give him the money, but a part of him was nervous about meeting up with him again, dealing with questions.
He didn't have to wait long. Jinko came in from the dining room, spotted him, and came over. “How'd it go?”
“No problem.” Jered wiped his hands on a towel and reached into his pocket. “Here—”
Jinko stopped him. “Come back to the storeroom.”
They moved into privacy, and Jered handed over the money. Jinko counted it and put it away. “Everything go all right?”
Jered looked down. “Fine.”
Jinko chucked him under his chin. “You're not very convincing.”
It took all of Jered's strength to look at him, eye to eye. Just tell him. Get it done with. “That guy's big.”
Jinko sniffed. “Big in body, small in mind. Don't worry about him. As long as things stay on the up-and-up, nones to worry.”
Up-and-up? None of this is up-and-up. Blackbeards a thief. Jinkos a thief
And Im a thief
Jinko peeled off another fifty. “Here. For your trouble. Now get back to work, kid. You did good.”
Hardly.
Seven
Find rest, O my soul, in God alone;
my hope comes from him.
He alone is my rock and my salvation;
he is my fortress I will not be shaken.
PSALM 62:5-6
AVI KNOCKED ON THE WINDOW of the drivers side, startling Annie. “Aren't you coming inside, Mama?”
Annie had not even noticed that her daughter had gotten out of the car. Once she'd pulled in the driveway after church and had seen Cal's truck sitting there, she'd been consumed with what he would say. What she would say. Those questions had frozen her in her seat. How could she ever express the joy she'd felt at church? It had surprised even her. Oh, how she wanted Cal to feel such joy and hope and—
“Mama, come on. Come with me.”
That snapped Annie out of it. After one of their fights, the atmosphere was always strung tight eno
ugh to snap at the slightest misstep. There was no way she'd send Avi in alone. Or first.
She got out of the car and held out her hand, more for her own comfort than her daughter's. As they walked toward the kitchen door, Annie tried to pray. She really did. But only one word repeated itself: Help, help, help, help… She hoped God would fill in the blanks.
Cal wasn't in the kitchen. She heard the TV in the living room. Annie found herself holding her breath and let it out. This is ridiculous. I'm in my own home. He's my husband. We love each other.
Avi opened the refrigerator. “Can we have lunch? I'm hungry.”
Maybe if Annie made a nice lunch, she could bring Cal a plate, sit in front of the TV with him, and act as if everything was normal. Maybe he wouldn't even ask about their morning. Maybe she wouldn't have to bring up church and God—
“Hi.”
Cal stood in the doorway to the kitchen. Annie's heart returned to her chest. She hung her coat and purse on the rack. “Hot dogs okay for lunch?”
“Ooh, yeah. I'll get 'em out,” Avi said.
“So how was it?” he asked.
“Nice. It was nice.”
“But where'd you go? We don't have a church.”
“We went where Merry and Susan go.”
“And Sim,” Avi said. “Sim was there.” She pointed to the hot dogs. “I want mine cut up with a squirt of catsup on each slice, okay?”
“Sure. Okay.” Annie washed her hands. She glanced at Cal. He was just standing there. It was hard reading him. Maybe if she explained more… “We saw the three of them standing in the parking lot; they asked us to go with them.”
Avi got four hot dogs out of the package and put them on a plate for the microwave. She glanced at her father. “It was fun, Daddy. I got to use puppets to put on a show.”
Cal ignored her and moved to Annie's side. She did not look at him. “Did you have fun?” His tone was mocking.
“Actually. Yes.” All thoughts of sharing her joy died. It wasn't the time. “What are your plans for this afternoon?”
He took a step away. “I have a project I need to figure prices on: finishing off the Welsh's basement.” He turned to Avi. “Go out to my truck and get my notebook, won't you, Av? It's on the front seat.
Avi did as she was told.
Annie put the plate in the microwave and pushed some buttons. Avi came back in. “Here's your notebook, Daddy. Did you need this other thingy? It was sitting—”
Annie caught a glimpse of a ticket before Cal grabbed it away.
“Let me have that,” he said.
“When did you get a ticket?”
“The other day. I made an illegal left turn, that's all. No big deal.”
The way he couldn't meet her eyes told her he was lying. But why?
He set the notebook on the table, folded the ticket in two, and stuffed it in his pocket. “They didn't get you to commit to anything, did they? Get you to give a chunk of money for some charity drive?”
It took her a moment to figure out he was talking about the church.
“No, no, nothing like that,” Annie said. “They were very nice.”
He took a seat and crossed his arms. “Because they do want something from you.”
She didn't know what to say “Why do you think that?”
He shrugged. “Experience.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You have experience with a church?”
“Sure. I'm not a heathen, you know.”
Heathen. What an odd word for him to use. “Did you go to church as a boy?”
He laughed bitterly. Then his voice rose as did his right arm. “Hellfire and damnation, fall upon you sinners!”
Annie took a step back. “It wasn't like that, Cal. Church this morning made me feel…full inside.”
He snickered. “Oh, I can tell you exactly what you were full of.” He reached out and touched her hand, his eyes concerned. “This is what they do, Annie-girl. They draw you into their fold, play a little music, say a few words they know everybody wants to hear, then make you feel like you owe them something. Like they've done you this big favor.”
“It wasn't people who filled me up, Cal.” How could she explain it?
He withdrew his hand and sat back.
She looked at him, then at her hands. The nail polish on her right thumb was horribly chipped. She took a cleansing breath. “I felt…God.”
He shoved his chair back and stood, pointing a finger at her face. “They've brainwashed you! One time in a church and they've brainwashed you.”
“They didn't—”
“You're not going back.”
Annie straightened her shoulders. “We are going back. Were going every week.”
He shook his head violently. “You're not going, and you're certainly not taking Avi.”
“Avi loved Sunday school.”
“Avi loves going to the hardware store. Avi loves cleaning her room. That girl's open and willing to go and do most anything, which is another reason why she's not going with you.”
Annie rubbed her hands over her head. How could something so joyful be made so confusing? “You don't understand…”
“Obviously, you don't either, or you'd be able to explain it better.”
She looked up. “It's too new to me. If Susan or Merry were here, they'd be able to find the exact place in the Bible to explain—”
He strode to the china cupboard and pulled out her Bible, waving it in the air between them. “That's the other thing. There will be no more Bible reading in the middle of the night.” He headed to the kitchen door and went outside. Annie heard the top of a garbage can open—and bang closed.
No, he wouldn't—
He came back without the Bible and slammed the door. “There. That's done.”
Annie sprang toward the door. He cut her off, holding her back. “You have no right to throw away my Bible. It's mine!” His grip hurt her arms.
“I have every right. I'm your husband. I'm protecting you from—”
She stopped fighting and stepped back. “Protecting me from God?”
“Protecting you from yourself.”
She put a hand on his chest, pushed slightly, and turned away. She didn't want him near her. His attitude was like an infectious virus threatening a healthy organ. If she stayed close, he'd invade her entire being, bring her down, defeat her.
She left the kitchen. He called after her. “You'll thank me for this, Annie. You'll see I'm right.”
Right? What was right anymore?
The phone rang at the bedside table. Annie didn't answer it. In the kitchen below her she heard Cal pick it up.
“No, you may not talk to her, Merry. She doesn't want to talk to you.
Annie sat up in bed. She did want to talk to Merry. Merry might be able to help. She reached for the extension, but when she picked it up, she heard two clicks. The line went dead.
She hung up the phone. Maybe it was for the best. Nothing was working out. Everything was a mess.
A few moments later there was a knock on the bedroom door. “Annie?”
She didn't answer him.
He tried the knob. “Why'd you lock the door?”
She turned onto her back, taking the pillow with her. “Isn't it obvious? I don't want to be disturbed.”
“We saved you a hot dog.”
“I'm not hungry.”
The moment of silence brought relief. Annie had just closed her eyes when Cal said, “You going to be in there all day?”
“Just leave me alone, Cal.”
“You're acting stupid.”
She rolled back to her side.
“Avi and I are going to the park.”
“You do that.”
“We want you to come.”
She thought of a good one. “We don't always get what we want.”
He stomped down the stairs, his voice fading. “Pout all you want. I won't stop you.”
Indeed you wont.
Cal pushed Avi on the swing.<
br />
“Higher, Daddy! Swing me over the top.”
Over the top. That's what he felt. Why did Annie have to go to church anyway? Why did she have to mess up the perfectly good routine they'd established over many years of marriage? Why d—
“Why are you so mad at Mama?”
He pushed the swing harder. “I'm not mad at her, Av. I'm frustrated.” Fm trying to save your mother from herself. From them. From Him.
“You yelled. That's mad.”
He wasn't going to argue the point with a ten-year-old.
“Church is fun, Daddy. You should come with us.”
“No thanks.”
“Why not?”
“Why?”
She couldn't answer that one. So there. End of discussion.
Annie heard the doorbell ring. Since Avi and Cal weren't home, she had no choice but to leave her pouting behind. It was Merry. And Ken.
When she opened the door, Annie scanned the street for Cal's truck. She invited them in, then shut the door quickly.
“Goodness. What was all that? I feel as though I'm in a spy movie,” Merry said.
“Cal took Avi to the park. You can't be here when he comes back.”
“Why not?”
She looked at Ken. She really didn't want to go into all this with him there. But she had no choice. “We argued. About church.”
“What happened?” Merry took a step toward the living room, but when Annie held her ground in the entryway, she returned to her spot.
Ken held up a finger. “So that's why he was so upset.”
Annie wasn't sure she understood his statement. “When did you see Cal?”
“This morning. That's why we're here. I gave him a speeding ticket when he was coming back from Eldora. He was going over ninety. He was real upset. I came to see how he was.”
Annies mind swam. “He was home all morning.”
“Obviously he wasn't.”
This didn't make any sense. “Why would he be in Eldora?”
“He said something about errands.”
“The catchall excuse.” Merry put a hand to her lips. “Oh, I'm sorry, Annie. I shouldn't speculate and imply—”