He put his hand over his mouth to whisper in my ear. “Is it okay if Belle and I go swimming this afternoon with Rachael?”
I put my hand over my own mouth, stood on tiptoe, and whispered into his. “She’s pretty cute. Are you sure I can trust you with her?”
“Mom!” He punched me lightly in the arm.
“Have fun. Do you guys need a ride anywhere?”
“No, we don’t, but Rashidi will. He rode with us.”
When we got outside, the sound of sirens from multiple directions ripped through the air. I hadn’t noticed it when we were inside with the hubbub of the lunch crowd, but out on the sidewalk, it was earsplitting. I put on my sunglasses and still had to tent my hand over my eyes in the noonday glare, trying to see down Highway 290 to find the source of the noise.
“Is it a wreck?” Annabelle asked.
A fire truck zoomed past us, its lower-noted emergency signal sounding up and down its scales.
“I can’t see it,” I said. “But must be, with all this emergency response.”
After we went our separate ways, Rashidi rode with me back to the courthouse. On the way, I told him about my odd conversation with Darlene. He was troubled and pensive as I parked.
“Can we talk more ’bout this later?”
I walked quickly beside him. “Absolutely.”
People’s heads turned when we passed them. I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d become notorious, or because he was dreadlocked down to the middle of his back, or because we were a mixed-race couple in a small Texas town. Even though we weren’t a couple, I amended.
Ralph hailed us from the door of the courtroom when we were barely to the top of the stairs on the second floor. The three of us walked in together, but it was empty save for the bailiff. He was picking up Styrofoam coffee cups and scraps of paper.
“Are we early?” Ralph called out.
The bailiff straightened. “Nah, the Judge adjourned.”
“But I thought court wasn’t starting again until one thirty,” I said. The clock on the wall said 1:25.
He shrugged. “He said they covered everything they needed to in chambers.”
Ralph and I shared a look. Steam built up inside my ears. This felt shady. Secretive and shady, like meetings in library parking lots.
“Seems like crap,” Rashidi noted.
“Absolutely,” I said. “Which is why we’re going to pay a visit to the judge.”
“Good idea.” Ralph headed for the door. “I know the way.”
Rashidi and I walked side by side behind him. When we reached a desk outside an imposing chamber door, Ralph stopped in front of it, clearing his throat to get the attention of a woman with gray pin curls plastered to her head and a strand of pearls hugging the round-necked collar of her white cardigan.
“Is Judge Gonzales in?” Ralph asked her.
She looked up at him and her cheeks pinked. “Ralph.”
“Mary Elizabeth.” He bowed ever so slightly.
“He left for the day.” She whispered, “He’s off tomorrow, taking a long weekend, so, you know.” Louder, she said, “Can I help you or take a message?”
Ralph looked at me. I shook my head.
“No, thank you.”
“Well, you have a nice weekend, Ralph. I hope to see you at church.”
“You, too, Mary Elizabeth.” Ralph tipped an imaginary hat toward her.
As we turned to go, she added, “Oh, if you guys were going to use 290, you need to find an alternate route.”
I hadn’t been introduced, but I jumped in anyway. “Why’s that?”
“We just got an email.” She pointed at her monitor. “A car burned up on 290 in town and they’re shutting down the highway in both directions.”
“Oh my goodness!” I said. “I hope no one was hurt.”
She shrugged. “We don’t know anything more yet.”
“Thank you,” Ralph said.
We walked toward the stairs.
Rashidi said, “That explains all the sirens.”
“Do you think we can get anything else done here?” Ralph asked me.
“I don’t think so. Not until Monday.”
“Well, if anything else happens over the weekend, call.”
I nodded, hoping there’d be no need.
***
Rashidi and I worked our way down the back streets to connect with the road south to Gidget’s. I saw the magenta magnificence of Bess in the rearview mirror as we pulled into the driveway. Janis and Woody went nuts when Maggie got out. She’d piled her hair in a messy topknot, and she’d paired blue-jean overalls with a half T-shirt. A honeyed patch of skin showed between the bottom of the shirt and the waist of her overalls. I pulled the Jetta into the open and newly cleared barn to keep it in the shade. The sun was more wicked with every passing day.
“Hey, y’all.” Maggie was rubbing the dogs vigorously. They whined and barked happily. “I was just coming to pick up the dogs. How are you two?”
Standing between the enormously sexy Rashidi and his feminine equal, I felt awkward. “Um, fine. What’s up with you?”
Rashidi interrupted us. Thank God. “You two coming inside? I have something to show you.” Rashidi went into the house without waiting to see our response.
Maggie put her arm through mine. “Game for a surprise?”
“Uh . . .”
She laughed. “Not that kind of surprise.” She squeezed my arm. “I had too much single malt last night. Sometimes I push people past their boundaries, I’m told. Sorry.”
I wiped pretend sweat from my brow. “Phew!”
“One of these days I’ll introduce you to my non-boyfriend, if that will help.”
Rashidi poked his head outside. “What’re you guys doing? Hurry up.”
We hustled into the house after him, and he led us to the second bedroom. He’d made a big mess of metal filings and used-up grinding wheels. The safe still wasn’t open.
“So what’s the surprise?” I asked.
He brandished the grinder again and turned it on. Using a lot of elbow grease, he applied the spinning wheel to the safe. I tried not to notice that it made the triceps on his arms stand out like he’d been carved from ebony.
Maggie whispered, “You’re drooling.”
I rolled my eyes at her.
Rashidi turned off the grinder. “Count down from tree.”
Maggie and I did it together. “Three, two, one.”
Rashidi swung the safe door open.
I shouted, “Hip, hip, hooray!”
Maggie yelled, “Kick ass!” She turned to me. “Picture to blog!”
I snapped a photo of her and Rashidi on either side of the open door. I sent it to the blog, titled “Secrets Revealed.”
I knelt in front of the safe and pulled out a high school yearbook. For a split second, I saw Gidget kneeling carefully exactly where I was now. She wore a long white linen gown. It was loose and flowing, open at the neck, and the sleeves hung to her fingertips. All the lights were out and the house was dark. She pushed something inside, then buried her face in her hands and wept.
Maggie sat cross-legged beside me, snapping me back to what was real. “A yearbook? Not what I would have expected.”
Next I removed a metal box, unfastening the flip clasp to lift the lid. It was filled with old German coins.
“Anybody know the conversion rate?” I handed the box back to Rashidi and peered back into the safe. “Only one more thing I can see in here.” I dragged a cardboard box to the lip of the safe and then wiggled it out. It landed on the floor with a thump.
“Maybe it’s full of treasure.” Maggie wiggled her fingers. “Jewelry or diamonds.”
“Or rocks. They were farmers.” Rashidi grinned at her.
“You’re both wrong.” I tilted the box toward them, spilling some of the contents.
It was stuffed with photographs, news clippings, and other memorabilia. Old black-and-whites, Polaroids, color, posed, spontaneous. Gidget, vi
brant and youthful, with other young women and an endless array of notables on the Houston celebrity scene, from musicians to athletes, and many others I didn’t recognize. One of a teenage Gidget with Jimmy. Another with Lucy and a preacher, in front of St. Paul’s. Many with her parents. Gidget in a cap and gown graduating from U of H. A mug shot of Gidget with paperwork from an arrest. The woman in that picture looked decades older, beaten down by life, and so different even from the grandmotherly woman I’d met. A yellowed article about her winning the 1970 Blinn College Grand Prize Art Contest. An invitation to the wedding of Anna Helen Becker to James Arthur Urban. A diner receipt with a cartoon longhorn in ink, and under it a phone number with a 713 area code. Ah, the mystery diner who’d promised Gidget the world, and a phone number to call for the book, and for leads to the daughter. No Gidget with a baby or a pregnant belly. No pictures of babies or children at all since 1975, when she’d given birth. A fragile clipping with an article about her father’s heroism, and a picture of him with his car. This and, oh, so much more. It was thrilling, and at the same time disappointing that we didn’t learn more.
We catalogued and I lost track of time as we talked over the subjects of the pictures, and Rashidi and I filled Maggie in on the events of the day. Much later, I heard a vehicle engine turn off, then laughter and young voices.
Rashidi nudged me. “Your boy’s smitten.”
Maggie looked puzzled. “What?” Sam’s new friend was one thing I hadn’t thought to tell her about.
The teenagers barged in, their voices going off like depth charges.
“Hi, Mom!” Sam shouted.
“Hey,” I said. “We’re in here. Rashidi got the safe open.”
“Cool.”
Annabelle and Rachael literally skipped through the doorway, their arms linked together.
“Hi, Mrs. Hanson,” Rachael said. Gone was the girl at Reba’s who wouldn’t speak.
She and Annabelle giggled.
“Hi, Michele,” Annabelle said.
“Hi, y’all.” I stood up and brushed off the knees of my clothes. “What have you been up to?”
“We went to the pool,” Sam said.
“And we drove by where that car blew up,” Rachael added.
“Oh my gosh, Michele,” Annabelle’s hand flew over her mouth. “It looked like the car that woman drove. The one you talked to at lunch.”
My stomach clenched. “How could you tell?”
“There was still enough of it, and people said it was a Mercedes. And nobody else in this dump of a town—uh, sorry.” Annabelle blushed and looked at Maggie.
Maggie flapped her hand. “Speak your truth, girl.”
“If nobody else drives that kind of car, then it had to be her, right?”
My heart started beating faster. “Did anyone say whether the driver had been identified?”
“No. But she was here and she left and then it happened to the kind of car she’s the only one who drives. It’s pretty obvious.”
I couldn’t accept it. But was it possible Darlene was dead?
Maggie held up a hand. “Whoa, there. What exactly happened? S-l-o-w-l-y.”
Sam took over the explanation. “We were at the pool and people were talking about it being a Mercedes that exploded. You know, like a car bomb went off. Not like a wreck or anything. It just blew up, and it burned up the person inside. The police are questioning people that fit the profile.”
I was so horrified it was hard to talk. Hard to think. Darlene. Darlene was scared of someone, and then this happened.
Maggie pursed her mouth. “Fit what profile?”
“You know. Like terrorists.” Sam stole a glance at Rachael while she was stealing a glance at him.
“Terrorists in Giddings, Texas?” Maggie’s voice sounded skeptical.
“Um, well, I don’t know for sure. It’s just what people were saying at the pool.”
I felt pretty sure this wasn’t the terrorist act of a religious zealot. More like the silencing act of someone desperate to keep a secret.
A secret they might believe I knew.
Chapter Twenty-nine
As if from the bottom of a well—the kind with me under twelve feet of water—I realized Sam was speaking.
“We’ve got a flat, Mom, and I can’t find my jack. Can I borrow yours?”
I mumbled something. He must have taken it as a yes because he disappeared, Annabelle and Rachael with him. I felt hands on me and looked into the concerned eyes of Rashidi and Maggie.
“It can’t be a coincidence,” I said.
“If it was really her,” Maggie responded, squeezing my arm. “And even if it was, it could’ve been an accident.”
“Maybe.”
The door burst open and slammed into the inside wall, gouging into the shiplap paneling. I had to replace the kick stop. And put glass back in the broken window.
Sam was buoyant. “Hey, I found a box of old stuff in the back of your car. Do you want it in here?”
I heard the box hit the ground by the door.
“Sure, just drop it anywhere.”
“I did,” Sam said, missing my sarcasm.
I walked out to it. “Oh man!” I smacked my forehead with the heel of my palm. My brain kept about as much in as a colander. “I’d completely forgot about this stuff. It’s all the documents and pictures that Gidget gave me last spring. Thanks, Sam.” While she hadn’t been very organized, Gidget had kept a lot of her history. Of course, she lived in a world before digital photography and document scanning and shredding, too.
“No problem. I’m going to go finish my tire. Then can we explore this place? Like walk the perimeter and stuff?”
“If you’ll take your mother.” I’d been meaning to do it, too.
Sam bounced off like a Labrador retriever puppy. When he opened the door, Gertrude zipped through and side-wound her way to me.
I let the funny dog bathe my ankles. “I’m going to change. For the walk.”
Rashidi fanned his dreadlocks. It really was hot in here with the door opening so often. “I hate leaving, but I have to go to a dinner. In College Station.”
“Oh?” I hadn’t known.
“Yah, they texted me. Command interview performance.”
“Oh. Well. I hope it goes great.”
He studied me, his face soft. “You’ll be okay?”
“You cracked the safe. I’ve got Sam and Belle. I’m irie.”
“And me,” Maggie piped in.
I should have been thrilled he was leaving. It should have taken a lot of pressure off me for him to go. Instead, my heart flipped over in my chest. My inner voice chided me. Tlazol. Thank him for this kindness and tell him goodbye. The voice had been right before. It didn’t ring as true for me now, but I obeyed.
I stuck my hand out and clasped Rashidi’s. I put my other hand over it and shook his, loose-jointed and awkward. “Thank you, Rashidi. I couldn’t have done it without you. I hope you’re able to learn everything you need and get a great job offer. I mean, if you want it.”
His eyes sparked. He pulled me into him and rocked me gently side to side. “Oh yes. I want this job.”
I gave in for a second. It felt really nice, but I forced myself to stiffen and pull away. “That’s great. Do you need anything before you go?” My voice sounded brittle, falsely bright.
Maggie walked up behind us and made a coughing noise that sounded like “bullshit.”
I ignored her.
Rashidi stared at me for a few more seconds then said, “Nah, everything irie with me, too.” He stepped toward Maggie. “Miss Maggie, it was a pleasure.”
She launched herself into a juicy hug with him. I averted my eyes and told myself I didn’t care.
“I hope to see you soon,” she said. A knife stabbed into my gut. “You’re one of a kind.” Stab. Stab. Stab.
“And so are you.” Stab. Stab. Stab.
Finally, they released each other. Rashidi saluted me and grabbed his keys from the kitchen table
. He walked backwards out the door. His steps were heavy and his eyes sad.
Maggie was shaking her head. “You are one Grade A dumbass, Michele.”
I bristled a little. “Thank you.” I strode with as much attitude as I could muster toward the bedroom.
Maggie laughed, loud, long, and deep. She sounded wide open, and I felt another stab of jealousy, for her ease. “All right. But somebody else is going to snatch him up.”
I wondered if it was going to be her and how her non-boyfriend would feel about it. I shut the door behind me, careful not to slam it and at the same time to make it loud. Angry, yet mature.
“What right does she have?” I muttered as I stripped off my unsuitable-for-court clothes. “She barely knows me.” I grabbed a pair of shorts and slipped them on. “She’s pushing herself into my life.” I reached into my suitcase, rummaging for a T-shirt. “Just like Rashidi. Both of them. Pushy. I do better by myself. I want to be alone. How come they can’t see that?” I found a shirt and pulled it over my head.
And that’s when the tears started leaking out the corners of my eyes, which made me even madder. I pushed them away with my forearm, but it didn’t stop the flow. I sat down on the bed and then gave in, laid back, and sobbed. A few seconds later the door clicked as it opened. Footsteps, soft and slow, approached me. My arms were crossed over my eyes so I couldn’t see, but it was clearly the smell of 80 proof, paint thinner, Aqua Net, and sawdust, and that meant Maggie.
The air beside me whooshed, and there was a plop as the mattress bounced down and then back up. I peeked out from under my arms. Maggie had assumed the same position I was in beside me.
“I’m sorry I’m being a bitch. No,” I corrected myself. “I’ve got to pull myself together. My mother—” I started to cry again. “She didn’t like it when I—” I cried some more. “It’s not right that I lost her so young. We never got a chance to—” I wiped savagely at my eyes and the tears I’d sworn I was done with. “I’m sorry I’m not being nice,” I finally choked out. And then in the midst of an enormous sob so heavy that there was no way anyone could’ve understood me I said, “I miss Adrian so much.”
Fighting for Anna Page 31