by Joan Hess
“He was real careful not to come into the bar. His car looked familiar, but I figured I was crazy. Lord knows I hadn’t thought about him for years, up until you were in the same situation I’d been. Not that you’d been abandoned by a scoundrel or anything like that. I mean single and pregnant.”
“You didn’t mention his car.”
“Well, I wasn’t sure it was his until you mentioned the name. Fred was a right slick liar from the day I met him. He and I had a long talk Sunday night, parked by the low-water bridge. He had all sorts of excuses for acting the way he did. I’d be surprised if there was more than a grain of truth in any of them. He finally admitted that he came to Maggody in hopes of meeting you. He wanted to tell you that he’s your father. I told him that was his decision, not mine.”
“He met me,” I said. “I kind of liked him, even though I knew he was lying to me all along. He couldn’t offer his alibi for Friday night because he was with some old friends. One of them might have blurted out his name.”
She wiggled into a more comfortable position. “I have to say I’m glad he didn’t murder Tommy or Dennis. At the worst, he’s a con man and a liar.”
“Dear old Dad,” I murmured. I remembered thinking there was something familiar about him. There was; I saw it in the mirror every day.
We sat in silence for a long while. I figured Ruby Bee was thinking about those giddy times in Hot Springs. I decided to send the information about Fred Carter, alias Frederick Cartier, to the Amarillo authorities and then let it go. As Ruby Bee said, I’d turned out okay. So had she.
“I had a call from Jack’s sister last night,” I said.
Ruby Bee beamed as she grabbed my hand. “Is she planning the wedding? I’m not one to meddle, but you deserve the wedding I never had. His children will make right cute attendants. His daughter can sprinkle flower petals on the path, and his son can be the ring bearer. Did you choose your colors? I always fancied blue and white. As the mother of the bride, I can wear lavender. It goes right nice with blue. If you don’t get going soon, it’s gonna have to be baby blue.”
“He’ll be home in plenty of time,” I went on, aware that she wasn’t listening. “She talked to an assistant director who was in Belém to pick up supplies. Everybody’s fine.”
“Estelle says she can rent a gazebo, so you can get married in her backyard, but I don’t want to be distracted by mosquitoes when you say your vows. I wish the bar and grill was fancier…”
I gave her a hug. “It’ll be perfect.”