Low Country Daddy

by Lexi Whitlow

  “Cool your jets,” I suggest to Stu. “Let me talk to Maddie.”

  I find Maddie sitting on a five-gallon bucket in the kitchen with an oyster knife in her hand, bloody knuckles, and tears in her eyes. I take the knife from her, peeling the shredded gloves from her hands, and lift them to kiss them.

  “I’m right here,” I say. “And you’re safe.”

  She’s in shock. Freaked out. On the verge of snapping. I hold her hands, both of them, snugly inside mine.

  “Why is he here?” I ask. “What did he say to you?”

  “He asked about Justin,” she says, her voice thin, tinny. “He said he wants to see him.’

  She looks at me, making frightened eye contact. She shakes her head vigorously. “He can’t. He tried to kill both of us. He would have. He says he’s sorry. He said he wants to tell Justin that, but Justin is doing so good now. If Joe comes back… He can’t. What if he finds Justin while I’m at work?”

  I nod. “Justin is safe, too,” I say. “He’s safe right now, out on the water with Manuel and his sons. There’s no way he can touch Justin.”

  I pull Maddie close, hugging her. “No one is ever going to hurt you or Justin again. Not as long as I have anything to say about it.” I hold her a long time until I feel her start to relax against me. Finally, when she’s breathing again, and not crying, I propose a solution.

  “He’s Justin’s father,” I say, trying to measure my words and my tone. “He could go to court here and file for custody rights. South Carolina is a tough state in situations like this. It’s backward in too many ways. What if you let him meet with Justin?” I ask. “Give him what he asks for. He’s a fish out of water down here. If you do that, he might just feel the victor and go away.”

  Maddie shakes her head. “You don’t know him,” she says. “If you give in a little, he takes it all.”

  I hear her, but I also know he’s not taking more than is offered. “I know people here, Maddie. If it gets ugly, I have friends who are lawyers, judges, and cops. He’s not gonna pull off anything in this town. Let him see his son. Let him have that satisfaction, and then – if necessary – I’ll call out the Cavalry to see him on his way home.”

  “I don’t want him anywhere near Justin,” she says. “Justin is scared of him.”

  Maddie is obviously plenty scared of him too.

  “I get that,” I say. “But here’s the thing. If he goes to court and says you refused to let him see his son, then that puts the negative light on you, not him. Let him come out to the farm. I’ll be there. Mama will be there. Stu will be there. Manuel if he can. Maria. You’ll have back up and lots of witnesses.”

  I watch her wheels turning, considering the logic of my advice. “You’ll be there?” she asks. “The whole time?”

  I nod. “The whole time. For you and for Justin.”

  Maddie stands up and goes to the sink to wash her hands, scubbing dried blood from under her nails and away from the fresh cuts she made with the oyster knife. She dries them on rough paper towels, dabbing delicately at her wounds.

  “You’ve got no business shucking oysters,” I say, smiling at her. “I’ll show you the right way to do it sometime, but don’t try it again ‘til you know what you’re doing.”

  She bobs her head at me, taking a breath, gathering herself. I follow her out the kitchen door, to the bar. I keep going, headed back to my seat beside Stu, while she approaches her ex, stopping an arm’s length and a bar top away.

  “You can see Justin,” she says, staring straight at him, her expression blank, stony. “But only to apologize to him. He’s doing well here. He has friends now. If you try anything with him, that’s it. The visit is over.”

  Joe brighten up. “When?”

  “Tomorrow morning,” Maddie says. She pulls an order pad from her pocket, scrawling something on it. “That’s the address,” she says. “Eleven a.m. Don’t be late. You’re always late.”

  “I won’t be late,” he says, smiling at Maddie. “You’ll see. Things are going to be different now.”

  I watch him leave a ten on the counter for nine dollars’ worth of beer and fries. A big tipper.

  “You think he’s coming back?” Stu asks me.

  I shrug. “I think I don’t know what goes through the brains of abusive stalkers,” I say. “I think my sorry ass isn’t leaving this stool ‘til closing time.”

  I watch people come and go all night. Most of them tourists, some locals. Occasionally I stretch my legs, heading out to the parking lot to check for shitheads, hanging around, watching the place. I have to admit I’m surprised when Joe doesn’t turn up again. I expected he’d show about closing time, but maybe he’s smarter than that. If he is, that makes him more dangerous than I initially imagined. He’s thinking longer term. He’s conspiring a play.

  “You’re cut,” Ronny says to Maddie as she’s polishing bar glasses, dead on her feet. “Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow at four.”

  She puts down her towel, counts up her receipts and tips, and settles up, then sheds her apron and clocks out. I follow her out the front door, watching her sweep the parking lot like a paranoid.

  “He’s not here,” I say. “I’ve been vigilant all night.”

  I walk Maddie to her RV. “I’ll follow,” I say, closing her door once she’s in. “I’ll see you at home.”

  Her old RV belches smoke when she fires it up. It needs a ring job at least, but probably a new engine. It’s not long for this world. Following her home, I get the full bounty of oily smoke coming from her tail pipe. No wonder she was lusting after my Honda.

  She can have the Honda. She’ll look good in it and I have no use for it. I don’t even know why I kept it except maybe I was waiting for Maddie to come into my life and claim it. Fuck it. Maybe I’ll trade the old Honda in and buy her a new one. I got the New Orleans contract. It’s not like I can’t afford to spend a little more on things that make life better. I’ve been living like Silas Marner, worried about money, forgetting the people who make life worthwhile. Maddie makes life better, and she – at the very least – needs reliable transportation around the rural byways of these islands.

  I follow Maddie all the way down the lane to her cottage, pulling my Toyota up beside her.

  She climbs out of the cab of her RV, looking haggard and weary. I don’t say anything, instead I just slip my arms around her, hugging her tight, pulling her close.

  “You’re okay,” I assure her. “You’re better than okay. You’ve got me and a whole town, at your back. You’re rock steady.”

  Maddie lingers in my arms, placid, exhausted. It’s not normal to see her this way, and it hurts me to know this guy Joe has her so rattled.

  “Have breakfast with me and Mama tomorrow,” I say. “We’ll organize a game plan.”

  She nods, pulling away from me. “I’ll see you then.”

  She looks downright beat down.

  Chapter 19

  Maddie

  I expected to make breakfast this morning, but when Justin and I get to the house, I smell bacon and shrimp cooking already. We come in the front door at ten ‘til seven, me bearing a cup of coffee in hand, only to find Rose at the stove making shrimp and grits, and Jeb feeding Emma.

  “Shrimp un grits!” Justin cries, smiling. “My favorite!”

  Rose points a wooden spoon at him. “Then take a seat at the table and wait patiently,” she says. “They’re almost done.”

  I look to Jeb for answers.

  “Have a seat,” he says, coaxing a spoonful of banana toward Emma’s lips. Emma locks eyes on me and grins, laughing, swallowing a big mouthful of fruity goodness.

  I haven’t told Justin what’s happening today, hoping I might find the right way to do it once I have the energy and enough coffee in me. This reception makes it abundantly clear that Jeb and Rose are with me. They’re going to help me.

  ‘Shrimp un grits’ are served up, with Justin slurping up the Low Country goodness like its manna from heaven. He ea
ts a double serving of bacon, then starts talking about going out with Manuel and the crew today, to drop green shell on the estuary bottom to help build reefs for the wild oysters.

  “Justin, baby,” I say. “You can’t go out with Manuel today.”

  “Why not?” he asks, biting a giant shrimp in two, slurping it down without chewing. His expression is all confusion.

  “Joe found us,” I say, stating it gently. I watch his face dissemble to something I haven’t seen since we crossed the border from Indiana to Kentucky. “He says he’s quit drinking, and he wants to apologize for the way he acted.”

  Justin stares at me, jaw slacked.

  “Legally, it isn’t right for me to stop him from seeing you, as long as he acts okay. We’re all going to be here to make sure he does.”

  Justin’s face stiffens. “I don’t want to see him,” he says. “He hurt you, and he hurt me. I don’t care what he says. He can flip off for all I care.”

  I laugh, halfheartedly.

  Jesus. My boy isn’t eight years old yet and he knows exactly what his father is, and exactly how to describe his feelings.

  “Hey,” Jeb says, intervening. “I’ll make solid deal with you. You play along, play nice with Joe, I’ll take you crabbing over on Hunter’s Island. It’s the best crabbing in the state.”

  Justin brightens. “On your new boat?” he asks.

  Jeb nods his head. “You can even pilot it on the wide spots,” he says. “Twin Yamaha outboards, wide open. Do this for your mom. I’ll make it up to you.”

  My kid and Jeb Ballentine are speaking a language I barely understand. Justin peers up at me through shaggy, sun bleached bangs that have needed trimming for weeks, his steely blue eyes fully appraised of the situation.

  “I’ll talk to him as long as you and Jeb are here,” he says. “But if that son of a bitch so much as touches me, I’m gonna bite ‘til he screams.”

  My kid has found his inner toughness. When did that happen?

  Jeb smiles across the table at me. “Watch your language, son,” he says, then goes on, revealing the plan. “Manuel is gonna be here at ten thirty. Stu is due any time and Ally is coming with him. Maria and the boys are coming too. They’ll be a lot of people here on the farm watching out over you and Justin, not just me and Mama.”

  Rose, who has remained silent through all of this, steps forward. “Maddie darling, you need to know, even with all your friends here, you also have family. Jeb and I are here for you and Justin, no matter what. Joe doesn’t have a prayer if he’s trying to bully you. The Ballentine name still means something here, and honey, today you’re a Ballentine.”

  I don’t even know what to do with that. I look down at my hands, then a my shiny, silver bracelet, shoving back tears that want to come. I can’t cry. I can’t let Justin see me rattled. I need to be fearless and tough for him.

  Eleven A.M. comes sooner than I want it to. We all watch the car bumping down the long drive, dust rising behind it, dread preceding it. Marco, Philip, and Justin head out into the yard to play as the car pulls forward. Jeb gives me a reassuring look and a firm squeeze of my hand, then departs with Rose to their porch, leaving me standing in the path to meet Joe.

  He’s driving a nice, late model car. I’m sure it’s a rental. He steps out, looking around surveying the surroundings.

  “This is something,” he says. “That house up there, that’s some Civil War shit, isn’t it? I bet the tourists eat that shit up.”

  Joe never was one to miss the obvious.

  “Where’s Justin?” he asks. “That’s why I’m here.”

  Joe is dressed in a familiar southside Indianapolis uniform; a track suit and t-shirt, with expensive sneakers. He looks like a gangster lost in the Low Country, trying the play the Bad Ass for the sake of a seven-year-old, who would rather be swimming in a mask, hunting for softshell crab in the shallows. Justin has evolved. Joe has not.

  I call Justin. He comes, standing tall, tanned, strong. Facing his father without flinching.

  “Little man,” Joe says approvingly. “Kid, you’ve grown. You’re so big. I got you something,” Joe says. “Check this out.”

  The something is a battery powered race car with a remote control.

  “Go play with that. Don’t fuck it up or crash it into anything.”

  Justin takes the car into the yard, trying to play with it in the grass.

  “Can we talk?” Joe asks as soon as Justin is out of earshot.

  My porch is fine for conversation. Maria is in the yard with Marco and Philip, with both boys helping Justin try to make his new toy go. Stu is across the yard at the stables, watching, standing observant. Down the lane Manuel is at work trimming shrubbery, keeping a wary eye peeled. Up the lane, Jeb and rose sit on their porch watching. Ally is walking, doing laps around the yard, always keeping her eyes open and in this direction.

  “Busy place,” Joe observes. “Fancy place.” He gazes across the lawn at the stables and fences. “A lot of expensive horses,” he says. “Big house. Grounds. Staff. I guess you think you landed somewhere.”

  He looks at me, then he extends his gaze to the house where Rose and Jeb sit, watching. “You think a guy like that gives shit about people like you or me?” he asks. “He’s got you set up down here in the slave cabin, while he looks down on you from the big house. He’s laughing at you and laughing at me. But mostly he’s just laughing at you.”

  “Joe, you said you wanted to spend some time with Justin,” I say.

  “I will,” he says. “Let him figure out the car first.”

  Justin is in the yard, and the car won’t go more than a few inches in the grass.

  “Maddie, this guy is a soft, rich, brat. Sweetheart, you’re just like me; Indy tough, bred on the streets. You don’t belong in a place like this. This soft handed, blue-blood is using you. If you can’t see that, you’re crazy.”

  He doesn’t know the first thing about Jeb.

  “Look,” he goes on. “I know I screwed up. I screwed up a lot. I lost my job and just lost my head for awhile after that. You take a man’s job and it messes with him. But I’m back. I got my shit together. I can make it up to you. To both of you. That’s why I’m here. I’m going to prove to you that I’ve changed. Things will be different this time.”

  “Spend some time with your son,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “You said you wanted to apologize to him. So, do it.”

  “Okay,” Joe says, his expression softening. I remember that expression from years ago, before he became a bastard who beat on me and terrified our son. He turns, then slowly strolls toward the kids in the yard.

  Philip and Marco stand up, but Justin remains on his knees, on the ground, not looking up. They’re out of earshot. I can’t hear what Joe says. I see Justin glance at Joe, nod, then shrug at him. Joe just stands there a few minutes, his hands in his pockets, while Justin fumbles with the motorized car that won’t move in the grass.

  Five or maybe ten minutes pass. Finally, Joe shakes his head, says something else, and then turns away, heading back toward me.

  “He’ll figure it out,” Joe says, a bemused expression on his face. “Kid never was mechanically inclined. Spends too much time with his books. He needs to get out more. Skin his knees. Who are those Mexican kids he’s hanging out with? You let him play with them? What’s that about?”

  “You really have no clue,” I spit at him. “You don’t know shit. And you have no right to question me on anything to do with Justin. You lost your parenting privileges when you went after him with fists and feet.”

  Joe nods, biting his lip.

  “I know,” he says. “I know, and I’m sorry. But you’ll see. It’s going to be better now. I’m not leaving here without you and Justin. We’re going to be a family again.”

  Joe reaches out toward me, reaching for my hand…

  Chapter 20

  Jeb

  The National Weather Service is tracking a growing tropical depression that’s for
med in the Atlantic, one hundred miles east of Puerto Rico…”

  The weather radio plays in the background while I watch this bullshit drama unfolding in my yard. Joe is way more interested in Maddie than he is in his son. That much is obvious. It’s also obvious, even from this distance, that Justin has absolutely no interest – or affection for – his father.

  He spent less than ten minutes standing over Justin, not interacting, just looking bored, before he shrugged and walked back to Maddie.

  From this vantage, it’s impossible to know what’s being said. Maddie’s body language says a lot. Her arms are crossed, her face is a stone.

  “I don’t like that man,” Mama says, her tone heavy with dread. “He reminds me of too many bad people I’ve known.”

  I see Joe step forward a few inches, speaking to Maddie. Then he reaches forward toward her, taking her hand.

  “No!” she shouts, loud and clear enough for everyone on the farm to hear it. “Don’t you fucking touch me.”

  Twenty paces from them, Justin bolts up from his spot on the grass and takes off running toward Maddie. Joe won’t let go of her hand. She shoves him backwards, and that’s when I launch off the porch, closing the gap between where I was and where they are, in seconds flat.

  By the time I arrive, Joe has let go of Maddie, and Justin has come to a halt, standing flat-footed, his face a mask of fear, five feet behind his father.

  Joe turns around, appraising me first, then his son; an amused expression on his face.

  Justin glances at me, his eyes wild, unsure what to do next.

  “Hey buddy,” I say to Justin. “That car will probably work better in the barn, on the concrete. You guys should take it in there and see if you can make it go. It’s okay.”

  Justin turns his eyes toward Maddie. She nods at him. “It’s alright,” she says. “Take Marco and Philip with you.”

  As the kids depart, I step up onto the porch beside Maddie. I don’t say a word. I don’t need to. Joe smiles at me, almost leering. His eyes – beady and black – bore into mine.