Under the cold Stones

by McNay, Dan

  “That seems to be the party line in Paris, Illinois,” she said.

  “I didn’t intend to feed you a line. Sorry. Talk about New Orleans.”

  She didn’t want to tell him anything. So she started asking him questions. It was easy. Most men wanted to tell you all about themselves. Like they were the most important people in the world. He did seem surprisingly aware of every man, woman and child in his town. He got off on a story about the sheriff and how the man simply refused to ticket or arrest a little old lady that would drive into town every Saturday afternoon as drunk as a skunk. The sheriff wouldn’t even stop her. He would wait for her in his patrol car and follow her around. She would run a couple of errands and then stop in a tavern. Then he would call one of her boys to come get her. This went on for years until her family finally took her car away.

  “What is his cut?” she asked.

  “Not much really. Just enough to buy a new fishing boat every few years and the latest TV.”

  She refused dessert. They came out for the car. He asked her to go dancing. He wasn’t ready to take her home just yet. She asked for a rain check. He wanted to know what else they might do. There was a Tasty Freeze down the street.

  “You can buy me an ice cream cone.” He reached for his car keys. “Let’s walk,” she suggested.

  They strolled down the gravel shoulder of the road and she let him take her hand. Just to see how it felt. He was very gentle, no sweaty palm stuff.

  “Sarah?” she asked.

  “That’s a very long story. Nice woman, huh? She left me.”

  “You drive women away?”

  “Only one. And she was driving, I wasn’t.” He smiled at her. “It was time, I guess. We barely spoke and our son was off in college. Now I get to ask about the father of the baby.”

  “John Seegum, a printer by trade. Very ink-stained hands.”

  “And…”

  “I’ve never seen him sober. But he has written that he is now.”

  They reached the stand and he bought her a cone dipped in chocolate and a fudge bar for himself and they sat at a nearby picnic table. There were three teenage girls a few tables away.

  “You must have had your choice of men.”

  “More than you could guess.”

  “Think we can do this again?” he asked. He touched her fingers.

  “Ok. Maybe start with that dancing idea earlier. You really hated to see me when I appeared.”

  “I was embarrassed. Guilty. I have never forgotten you. What happened to your long red nails?”

  “Just working my fingers to the bone these days.”

  She stood up. “Brain freeze.”

  They walked back to his car. He was sweetly quiet. He took her hand again and she let him. He held the door again. On the way back to her house, he slowed and nodded at a house behind some trees on her side. It was a huge house. It looked like it went on forever.

  “Yours?”

  He nodded.

  “It’s a rough life.”

  When they got to her place, he was out opening the door again. He offered a hand to help her out. At the front door there was his kiss. Gentle and passionate.

  “I’ll call you,” he said and left.

  Chapter eleven

  Sarah appeared at her door at 9:00am with one of those British scarves around her neck. It was overcast and cool, they were due for a thunder storm that day, but it seemed an odd fashion statement for autumn in Illinois. It wasn’t a woolen scarf, more flimsy, like something you’d see in a movie about a flapper in the 20s. Maybe her being British made Daydee think it was a British scarf. It wasn’t the Midwest or the South.

  “Come on,” she said.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see. Come on. We’ve got an appointment.”

  “Ok, I’m coming.”

  Daydee grabbed her bag and keys and tried to figure out if there was anything she needed to think about. She guessed not, and came out. They got in the car.

  “How have you been?” Daydee asked. “Nice scarf.”

  “Thanks. I’m very popular right now. A thousand questions about you. You need a press agent.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I should have told you something.”

  “You did. And I don’t want to know. Ice cream at the Tastee Freeze is beyond my understanding.”

  “Sarah.”

  “I don’t want to know. I’m on your side. I don’t want to know.”

  They were parking in front of the medical building that had been built where the old house had once stood.

  “Not a word. Come on.”

  Daydee followed her inside and into a doctor’s waiting room. Sarah signed her in.

  “Have a seat,” she told her.

  Daydee obeyed. This was very scary.

  Sarah brought over a medical history questionnaire for her to fill out.

  “If you don’t remember, just make something up. If you don’t want to tell them the truth, just lie.”

  Daydee was close to getting up and leaving.

  “You were going to wait until your water broke, weren’t you?”

  “Well, maybe.”

  She started to work on the form. She was almost done when the guy from the newspaper office on Main Street came in with his much younger wife who was as far along as she was. He had let her leave her bag with him that first day. He remembered who she was. He was kind of good looking and kind and obviously really bright. She looked at Sarah. He was supposed to be single.

  There were hellos. He was telling his wife who she was. He was saying how good it was to see old classmates from high school back in town. How he admired anybody that wanted to bring another human being into this world. How he was looking forward to chasing the little one around the playground. And maybe the two babies might have play dates, or something like that. She finished her form and was thinking, thank God for this silly man, and could she buy one just like him somewhere, she had money now. She looked at her friend, her only real friend and smiled.

  They took her into the examining room. Sarah didn’t come. She felt her heart freeze like ice as she waited. She knew in her soul of souls that it wouldn’t be right. It would be all of the horrible things. Not even a baby. A mass of tissue that had no organs. A horrible misshapen thing that would not have a mind. Or something that would live six months and die. The doctor finally came in.

  There was heart listening, lung listening. There were blood tests to take after. It went on. There were questions. Then there was an ultrasound. They showed pictures on the screen of a baby girl, after they asked whether she wanted to know, a heart beating. Everything apparently going fine.

  She was going to cry. The doctor said everything was fine. He would let her know about the results of the tests. But everything looked good.

  She did cry. The ultrasound nurse gave her tissues. The doctor patted her shoulder.

  “I was afraid,” was all she could get out.

  * * *

  Sarah brought her back home. Big drops were falling on the street. The sky was growing darker. They ran for the front porch just before the rain broke loose. There was a flash somewhere and then thunder. They went in and Daydee made them tuna sandwiches and they carried them out to the porch to watch the storm.

  “Not much to do today,” Sarah said finally.

  Daydee was worried about her father out there in the rain. He had a tarp, she thought.

  “Nope. I need to run an errand later. Thanks for getting me to go.”

  “Sure.”

  Sarah produced a joint and lit it and passed it to her after she had a toke. Daydee didn’t hesitate. They passed it between them until her head began to swim a bit. It seemed to just rain and rain. Sarah took her hand across the table. It was weird, but Daydee didn’t pull away. Then Sarah was on her knees in front of her. Her eyes were so clear, and blue, bright blue. Sarah’s hand was on her cheek. And her lips were ready to kiss hers. Pretty red lips. Daydee closed her eyes. The kiss
was nice. Loving and gentle. It made her tingle. Their tongues played, were friends. When they parted, Daydee started to giggle. Sarah was smiling, caressing her neck and shoulder. So gently. Making goosebumps. Sarah stood and took her hands and brought her up to kiss again. And opening the screen, she turned her and guided her inside ahead of her, her hands on her shoulders.

  “Where are we going?” Daydee asked.

  “To bed.”

  “Oh.”

  She didn’t resist. When they got to the bedroom, Daydee let her undress her. So slow and so gentle. And kind. And kisses everywhere. On her shoulders. Her neck. Gentle fingers on her growing tummy and her rear. She stretched out on the bed for her and watched her undress. She was so skinny. Slender. A ballerina. Another flash and more thunder. And the rain and more rain. Sarah liked her boobs. Her hand was warm between her legs. It was happening so fast. She was so moist and she guided Sarah’s fingers to her. God. Her friend, her friend. And she exploded.

  She held her close. She felt so good close. So slender and smooth. It was her turn, Sarah guided her hand and Sarah sitting atop her, below her belly. One hand on Daydee’s nipple. One hand on her own. And Daydee’s hand helping her like it was her own.

  It was so much a dream. A silly dream. Daydee wanted to make it nice for her friend. She rolled her over and scooted down to look at it and then to kiss it. And to play with it with her tongue. She was sweet, so sweet. Her hands on her hair. Her noises. Her gasping. And she stiffened and pushed her away and froze and moaned. In a moment, she was down with her, wiping off Daydee’s face and kissing her and holding her. The holding was the best part. They were happy. Daydee giggled.

  * * *

  They awoke much later that evening. The rain had stopped and it was cool. It was dark outside. The crickets were talking to the dripping water. Daydee brought her friend iced tea. Sarah’s touch now tickled and she shivered. The grass had mostly worn off, but it still all felt like a fog. Sarah tucked her in with a sheet, kissed her and got up to get dressed.

  “Maybe we can do this again sometime,” Sarah said.

  “Maybe.”

  “I can guarantee this is better than that big poker of Edward’s.”

  “It’s big?” Daydee asked.

  “Please stay out of trouble,” Sarah said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m gone for a week. I’m taking the train across Canada. See you when I get back?” Sarah asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Sarah bent over and kissed her passionately. Daydee wrapped herself in the sheet and walked her to the front door. Then she plopped on the couch and watched television. What a thing. A friend.

  * * *

  She was out at the cemetery again. The bookkeeping and the records were a mess and it kept nagging her. She was sure someone would show up, claiming a grave and a hole to be dug that she couldn’t find any record of. Then what do you do? What if you bury the body in the wrong plot? So she was going through each customer, and making notes and trying to create a master list on a big ledger she had bought. The new accountant she hired had raised the question of the perpetual care account. Apparently, Illinois required a portion of the plot sale to be set aside for a fund to ensure that the cemetery was kept in good shape. The interest from the fund was supposed to pay for upkeep. They figured out that the fund was maybe $50,000 short. About what her mother had lost each year for the last five years. The money she had stuck in the safety deposit boxes would easily cover it, but Daydee wanted that money for herself. Her mother was really crazy. Why would she steal money when she had money?

  She would have never spent her time doing anything like this six months ago. But she was beginning to get comfortable here. There was no more graffiti. No more pissed off guys around. She had a silly notion about taking her daughter out for a ride on her lap in the backhoe. Role model practical skills better than the ones she used to know.

  Winston pulled up in front of the office.

  She wasn’t very presentable. The flannel shirt and the preggo pants had become a uniform. She had taken to just wearing a bandana over her hair. And no make-up at all. Who was she going to see that was vaguely important? Edward wasn’t the spontaneous sort. He would call to schedule a date if he wanted another one. The rest of the world didn’t want to see her except for Sarah. The sheriff had disappeared.

  He knocked on the screen.

  “Winston, I’m sitting right here where you can see me. Come on in.”

  “Hello,” he said. “I came out to visit, if you aren’t too busy.”

  “Come on in and sit. I could use a break.” She got up. “You like a cold drink?”

  “Like what?”

  She laughed.

  “Well,” she said in her deepest drawl, “we have Dr. Pepper. What you got?” She missed the south.

  “That would be fine.”

  She got one for each of them and settled down behind the pile of papers on her desk.

  “This is what folks drink in New Orleans,” she told him.

  “Not bad,” he said. “Different. Deidre, I’ve decided I need to buy a family plot.”

  “Ok.”

  She wasn’t prepared. This would be her first sale, if he decided to buy one. There was a brochure in the desk drawer. Handing it to him, she wondered if the pricing was current.

  “This is what I have. I can show you the location choices. I’ve figured a few of them out.”

  She took him outside to look. He seemed to like the view from one location. He stood and eyed the horizon.

  “My wife has cancer,” he said.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  They headed back toward the office. He paused by her parents’ grave.

  “You were the one that he told me to talk to.”

  “He?”

  Winston rubbed his face with his hands.

  “Deidre, Jesus told me to talk to you.”

  She was dumbfounded.

  “Winston, I don’t know Jesus.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, has he got plans about talking to me?”

  “I don’t know!”

  She wished she had a hard drink right now.

  “Ok, so what do you want me to know?”

  “It’s about your father.”

  Daydee nodded.

  “Your father just showed up again. Out at the old farm. Your mother still owned it then. The sharecropper had spotted him. No one lived out there then. The house was surrounded by crop and the barn was about to collapse. It was leaning way over.”

  “Winston.”

  “The sheriff could have run across him and they would put him in a home. Your mother didn’t want him around. She was afraid she’d be stuck paying for him if they put him away. She made a deal with Edward that we would get rid of him for her. We got Jack to come along so we could handle him. The plan was to go kidnap him and drive him to Chicago and drop him off somewhere that the cops would find him and have him committed up there where nobody knew who he was. We all remembered him as really crazy, so it was a plan that seemed possible. We had brought duct tape to tie him up.

  “Well, he got away from us. It was so dark out there. No moon, no nothing. We chased him, but he was real erratic. We were running around in your mother’s car with the headlights off on those trails around the crops to get the tractor in and out. I don’t know how Edward got your mother’s car. I didn’t realize whose it was at the time. I don’t know if she gave it to him or what.

  “He popped out and we tried to avoid him and he turned and ran in front of the car. Edward ran him down. The body was pretty beat up. We were pretty shook up. It’s the only time I ever saw Edward cry. I thought we should just take the body and drive till dawn and dump it far away where nobody could find it.

  “Edward said your mother needed a dead body. So we left him. We ditched your mother’s car out near the river and Edward made it look like it was hot-wired, like somebody had stolen it. And Edward went in alone to see the she
riff. He told him that he went out there to find him and he was already dead.

  “They went to get the body and afterward they decided that you mother’s car had killed him, so they brought charges against her. She got off because she had reported it stolen the day before.”

  “What happened to the barn fire story?” she asked.

  “What?”

  He didn’t remember.

  Daydee got up.

  “Come with me,” she told him.

  She headed out and toward the back of the cemetery. Winston trotted after her, a bit out of breath.

  “Where are we going?”

  They passed where she had found the bodies and went down into the field. The shopping cart was there. The lunch she had left on it earlier was gone. They entered the grove of trees.

  She shushed him when he started to ask again.

  “Daddy?” she called.

  He shuffled out of the shrubs. His head was cocked to one side.

  “Bringing old caw-caws and young moo cows, we wearily await. A pack, a pack, a pack! He’s a whosit!” He began gathering anything he could find, sticks, weeds and began throwing them at Winston. “Vile little twart! Vile, vile.”

  Winston backed away. Daydee got in front of him.

  “You remember him?” she asked him.

  “He ate your mother!”

  “I’ll take him away. You relax. I’ll come with dinner in a little while.”

  “He ate my children!”

  She shooed Winston out ahead of her.

  “How long has he been here?” he whispered.

  “I don’t know. He appeared right after I arrived.”

  “Jesus Christ!”

  “So who did you kill that night?”

  “I don’t know. Edward said it was your father. Jack and I didn’t question him.”

  “Well, I want you to go. And if you don’t tell anyone, I’d appreciate it. I want to protect him, until I can figure out what to do with him.”

  They went back to the office and Daydee sold him a plot.

  * * *

  Edward appeared in jeans and a polo shirt, with a picnic basket. He had asked for an afternoon date, wouldn’t explain why. He was clean and neat. He might have dressed casually, but he didn’t look or act any less formal than he had before.