by Nat Burns
An onslaught of exhaustion washed across her as she mounted the porch steps, making her dizzy. She grasped the handrail to steady herself until the faintness eased but realized her reserves were dangerously low. Quickly she hefted the other two bags and hurried back to the car. After a moment of thought she made one more trip back inside.
In the laundry room, she moved jars around until she was sure it would take some time before Rosalie realized Delora had taken some of them. Fighting a new ambush of guilt, she lifted one more dusty jar, from a bottom far corner. She hoped this one held some of the Social Security payments from her parents’ death. She looked at it a long time, her breathing shallow and measured. The faded currency inside gave no clue, but Delora was convinced this money was her legacy from them. Closing the wall panel and making sure all was as it had been before, she walked from Rosalie’s house for the final time. She knew, no matter what happened to her, she’d never willingly return here. Too much had changed. She had changed.
The car waited, trunk gaping, as she made her way to it. Having such a small life meant she could easily re-create it, mold it to whatever she wanted it to be. This thought was exhilarating; she felt young and expectant once again. She turned and looked at the house one final time. She felt some sadness for Louie’s passing but more relief that Sheriff Jonas had believed their story.
There’d been no doubt in his blue eyes. He’d listened to Delora’s account as the rescue crew bundled up Louie’s brawny form. He’d nodded, gaze sad as he told her that the state might need an autopsy, but he’d have to check the law book on that. He’d patted Delora on the back, shaken Hinchey’s hand and expressed real sorrow for the loss. Then he was gone and Hinchey had driven Delora here.
Stowing the last jar of money in with her bags of clothing, Delora allowed the trunk lid to close and scrambled into the passenger seat next to Hinchey.
“Thank you,” she said, watching his face. His expression was thoughtful, but Delora could see he knew they’d done the right thing for everyone concerned.
“What do you think Rose will do when she comes home and you’ve cleared out?”
Delora shrugged. “I need a cigarette. Can I smoke in here?”
He nodded and she lit up, desperately drawing in the smoke. “I don’t much care, Hinchey. I’m done.”
Chapter Forty-Three
“Bucky? Louie’s dead.”
Bucky didn’t say anything for a long moment.
“He’s dead? What do you mean? What happened?”
“Well,” she sighed heavily. “Hinchey gave me a ride over to the park to pick him up. They got into a fight—they’ve always hated one another—and Louie fell.”
“Fell?”
“Yeah, and hit his head. There was this concrete trash can…”
“So he’s really dead? He’s gone?”
Delora knew Bucky was trying hard to gauge her feelings. To see whether he should express the elation he was feeling or whether he should grieve as he supported her during this loss.
“Yeah. At last he’s out of my life.”
Bucky took a deep breath of relief. “Are you okay? Are you sad?”
“Not sad. Scared. I can’t imagine life on my own. I’ve been…dealing with him for so long…”
“Where are you? What are you going to do now?”
Delora looked around the parking lot of the Clarence Road Shopping Center next door to where she’d had her car serviced. She studied the busy women hurrying into the line of intriguing stores. It was a given that she would never be like them. Her life experiences had changed her into something far different. “I don’t know, Bucky. Guess I’m in limbo right now.”
“How are things with Sophie?”
The mention of Sophie’s name stirred something good deep inside. Then alarm. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“Whoa. What’s going on?”
“She can’t want me. Not how I am.” She sighed as tears welled.
“Self-pity. Never thought it connected with you.”
It took her a good while to discern his meaning. Then she bristled. “It’s a fact, Bucky.”
“Oh, she told you this. That must have hurt.”
“Well…”
“Right. Why don’t you stop trying to think for her.”
She had to smile. There was no bullshit with Bucky. “Okay, point taken. I’m afraid though, Buck. I’m afraid Hinchey will get in trouble with the police…”
“Could he?”
“Sure. They could say he pushed him. I’m not so sure he didn’t. I mean, he was defending me and jumped on him. I think Louie lost his footing and that’s what I’ll tell them if they ever ask. It all happened so fast.”
“Did anyone else see?”
“No. We were alone. Hinchey wanted to tell the police everything, but I told him not to. I told him to lie and say we found him that way. Was that wrong?”
Bucky was quiet.
“I mean, I don’t feel it was wrong, but I know it should be, you know?”
“Let it go, Delora. Hinchey sounds like a good old boy who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Why let Louie’s death ruin his life?”
“Yeah.”
“What else is bothering you?”
“I’m afraid Sophie won’t want me, that Rosalie is going to give me a lot of grief, that I can’t take care of myself. That I’ll be alone again…” Her voice broke as a sob escaped. She was perilously close to tears.
“Self-pity.” He sighed. “Such a waste. Just stop and put one foot in front of the other. Look at what you’ve come through. The burning. The healing. The meds. Do you really think there’s anything you can’t overcome. That you can’t deal with?”
Delora thought about his words. About the truth there. Damn Bucky. Her hand crept down to pinch at the phoenix tattoo hidden beneath her jeans.
“I’m keeping my jobs,” she said as if beginning a list. “My friend Annie owns some houses, so I’ll see if she has one I can rent. I took money from Rosalie’s so I should be okay for a while.”
“Ah, the money in the wall. How much?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t even counted it. I will. I’m sure it’s enough. I left her plenty too.”
“And Sophie?” he interjected.
Delora laughed softly. “I guess I’ll see how she feels.”
“Good answer.”
Silence fell.
“Are you sad about Louie at all?”
“I don’t feel much about him,” she replied thoughtfully. “All I can think about is Sophie and about helping the people here. They’re so cool, Bucky. You have no idea. They have no money and their houses are just shit but they…they’re so cool. It’s like they keep getting in their own way, though. They have no money, no education, but they get by. Day after day. It’s amazing. And what Sophie does…I can’t believe what she knows and what she can do. It kills me to watch her.”
“She must be awesome.”
Delora sighed, eyes welling with tears. “I’m gonna say this one more self-pitying thing and then I’ll stop.”
“Okay,” he replied softly.
“Why now, Buck? After the burns? Why couldn’t I have met her before? I’ve got to be repulsive to her and she’s so…” a new sob tore through her, “so incredible.”
“Listen.” His voice was soothing in its no-nonsense delivery. “Maybe you weren’t ready then. You’ve told me what your life was like. Didn’t sound too healthy. Maybe that’s what would have put her off.”
Delora had never thought of this aspect. “Maybe you’re right,” she admitted.
“Can I come see you?”
Delora realized suddenly that Bucky Clyde could visit now that Louie was gone. In the past, she’d always discouraged the possibility because she knew Louie would not have understood their friendship. He wouldn’t have understood the closeness. The idea of Bucky Clyde visiting filled her with excitement.
“Could you? I mean…”
“Absolutely. I can’t come righ
t away because I’m in contract negotiations with Frank and tied down. Two weeks, though. Would that be okay? I can suspend this new round of therapy and come down for a long visit.”
“Oh, Bucky. That would be perfect. It would allow things to settle down a little, and I should be in my own place by then.”
“Good. Will the people there be okay with me?”
“Does it really matter?”
Bucky chuckled softly. “Touché.”
Delora felt oddly pleased. “It’ll be fine. I can’t wait.”
Chapter Forty-Four
The Red Roof Inn outside downtown Redstar wasn’t fancy, but it was quiet, secluded and certainly fit Delora’s need to reflect on her life and her future. Going back to Rosalie’s would be like entering the mouth of a volcano. No way.
Once settled into the room, she took a long, very hot shower and allowed her mind to empty of everything. Rational thinking was the first to go, and she found herself thinking insanely of a nursery rhyme her mother had sung often. Lambs eat oats and mares eat oats rambled repeatedly through her mind until she began to wonder if this behavior heralded her descent into the loony bin. The idle thought was comforting. Emotion left her next, and her being centered around the wet heat of the shower and the sensory experience of the soft rain of water sluicing across her skin.
She touched her scarred abdomen, reveling in the numbness there as she never had before. A New-Agey aspect of herself declared that she loved this infirm part of her body. For more than two years, she had hated it. Though not admitting it openly, she blamed the wounded area as harshly as she blamed Louie for what had happened to her. After all, the wounds would keep her from love and life just as effectively as Louie’s actions that hateful morning. She knew now that this attitude was wrong and against nature. Sophie had taught her this.
Sophie.
Delora smiled when she thought of her new companion. Sophie had become the love of her life. She knew that now too.
She dried slowly, pressing the hotel towel with patient care against all exposed expanses of skin. The towel felt good against her cheeks, and she thought of Sophie’s lips there the night on the bayou. She remembered the way Sophie’s hands felt against her back as she held her. The thoughts made old longings reappear and Delora sighed in frustration. What was she to do?
Rational thought reappeared. There was so much to do. She dressed slowly in loose cotton trousers and a short pink T-shirt as her mind listed possibilities.
First, she needed to decide where she was going to live. Her time with Rosalie was done, and she needed to move on.
She turned and looked at the jars of money. There had to be thousands of dollars inside, and she was glad about that. She needed to count it and take stock of her situation, but she didn’t feel like dealing with it just now.
She sighed and curled up in the room’s only armchair with the little notebook she carried in her backpack.
“Look for apartment or house,” she wrote. Then above that phrase, she wrote in bigger letters, “Get newspaper tomorrow morning.” That was better, one step at a time.
Under “look for apartment,” she wrote, “Call Sophie and tell her what happened.”
As far as income, she knew she’d keep all three jobs for a while, just until she had some money saved, a security blanket. So she wouldn’t have to worry. She needed a bank account, something she’d never bothered with before. Adding “Go to bank” to her list, she sighed. So much to do.
She looked around the neat, bare hotel room. It was a shame she couldn’t live here. She liked this room. It was controlled and felt safe.
She wondered what twists and turns Louie’s death was going to bring to her life. She was glad he was gone. What repercussions did a death bring? Her parents’ deaths had brought her a different life and a tattered pack of old photos and mementos from a more idyllic time.
The physical assets from Louie would be slim, and she felt as though she had gotten everything from Rosalie’s house that she wanted. What about legalities, though? She supposed she would have to make herself available to Bud Corman, her family’s lawyer. She had a bad case of the “I don’t wannas” about that. What she wanted was to disappear for a while until she had regained her bearings.
“Call Bud,” she wrote reluctantly.
She also knew she’d have to face Rosalie at some point. What was she going to tell her? Lies. Would Rosalie know she was lying? She had always been able to tell before. What did it matter anymore, really? Delora was no longer a teenager trying to get away with drinking with the older college kids. This was a little more serious, though, and because of that, even less of a problem. An event this big swept away all the foolishness that had gone before. Delora knew that Louie was gone; nothing could be done to change that. Her only duty now was to protect Hinchey as best she could so Louie wouldn’t destroy his life as he had hers. And this she would do, whether to Rosalie, an army of policemen or simply to herself. She knew that when she woke tomorrow morning the truth would be gone, hidden under the story she and Hinchey had crafted. They found Louie that way when they went to pick him up.
Maybe Hinchey would move away. Life for Delora would go on. Only this time it would be under her terms and her terms only. She felt fully free for the first time since her parents’ deaths.
She leaned her head back and studied the ceiling. What did she want for her life? She knew one thing—being with Sophie, working alongside her, felt like an answer to prayer. Would Sophie train her? She laughed, feeling stupid and coy. She didn’t want Sophie that way. Maybe Sophie would teach her more secrets of woman love, teach her about that ravishing ache she felt after an evening of Sophie’s kisses. Delora felt like Sophie’s kisses brought her to life. No man had ever moved her that way. She walked across virgin soil and for some odd reason, even though she was burned and was what many would call disfigured, she felt okay, even learning to welcome the changes her life was moving toward.
Afraid to hope too fiercely, Delora laid aside her list and rose from the chair. She moved to the bed and folded down the thick coverlet. She slid from her clothing and crawled into the coolness of the sheets. She debated watching television, half-afraid she’d see Louie’s death on the local broadcast. Instead, she switched off the light and lay in darkness. Light from a streetlight peeked from around the window curtain. Delora watched the penetrating glow, wishing the window would open so she could hear the sounds from the night outside. She would find that soothing. A sudden shadow passed by her window, a figure moving outside on the balcony, momentarily blocking the light from the window. It passed on and hesitantly returned. A knock sounded.
Chapter Forty-Five
Delora rose as if on greased wheels. She shrugged into her robe.
Sophie’s body was dark against the streetlamp’s glow.
“Delora, are you okay?” she asked. “I heard what happened.”
Delora moved back, effectively inviting Sophie inside.
“You are okay, aren’t you?” she persisted as she pressed the door closed.
“I’m okay,” Delora agreed softly. She studied Sophie in the dimness a long time, as if examining her for possibilities. How did she always manage to find her?
Sophie’s eyes found Delora’s, and the younger woman felt herself moving forward into a new expanding dimension. Little else mattered except keeping Sophie’s gaze on her in the dimness.
“Sophie, I…”
Sophie waited expectantly. “What? Tell me.”
“You know I’m burned.”
“Yes. Technically, you were burned, now you’re healed.”
Delora had to smile. “True, but the scars…they’re pretty bad.”
Sophie nodded. “I know. I’ve seen worse, honey.”
“I know…but…really?”
Sophie nodded again. “Ummhmm.”
Delora’s consciousness shifted just a little. “Hmm. Well, I just want you to know things between us are…I understand if you don’t want to…you
know.”
Sophie smiled, her eyes going all hard and dark. “Oh, I want to. No doubt about that.”
A thrill sped along Delora’s nerves, leaving her breath ragged and her body aroused. Goose bumps circled along her breasts, bringing her nipples to delicious erection. Her shy eyes lifted to Sophie and the look there made that strange plummeting sensation begin in her stomach and groin again.
“Oh,” Delora said.
“What?” Sophie replied. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Delora’s voice was low and breathy.
Sophie leaned in and took Delora’s hands in hers. “I knew as soon as I met you that we were a special pair and meant to be together,” she explained. “Love began to grow—that minute. Everything about you that I’ve seen since has just reinforced that love. I’m not one to play games, really. Never have been. What you see in me is what you get and I’m telling you now straight out. I love you and I hope one day, a hope helped by what I see in your eyes, that you will grow to love me as much. It’s not such an outlandish hope, although I know this isn’t the best time to point out that you’re a free woman.”
Delora said. “It’s okay. There wasn’t anything there anyway.”
“I understand if you’re holding out for another man, but I hope it’s not because you feel like you can’t love a woman?”
Mulling this over, Delora fiddled with the collar of her robe. Her feelings were so confused; she didn’t know what to think. The voices of her physicians echoed in her mind. She wanted to be sure that she didn’t fall into a relationship with a woman just because she couldn’t have a relationship with a man.
“Sophie, I don’t know,” she said finally. “You don’t understand. The doctors at the burn unit told me I’d never be able to have sex again. They managed to rebuild my vagina, but the skin inside there is really thin. They said it can’t be penetrated with any force so I figured it was all over. That was a little more than two years ago and I haven’t thought seriously about sex since. It was a nonissue. Then I meet you and I start having all these feelings.”