I thought Joanna hated me. What was going on here? I’m starting to get confused.
I threw the tissues into the trash, and pulling out my notebook began to write down the latest developments. I wish that Naomi and Bitsy were here, so I could talk to them. Why did Maudie dump all the fellows? Why dump my dad and then later give me to him for adoption? She had to have trusted him with my care, or was there something else going on there that I didn’t understand? Or was I really my dad’s daughter and Mom resented me because of an affair?
Hesitantly, I leaned back in the chair and glanced in Maudie’s office. The tiger needed to be tackled, and I needed to get in there and see if any of that mess pertained to me.
The phone rang.
I hesitated. I almost didn’t want to talk to anyone. My emotions were pretty rough right now. It rang again.
Sighing, I picked it up. Before I could say hello, Grant said, “Sara, come to my office right now!” Then he hung up.
I stood there looking at the receiver, wondering what was going on. I reset the receiver in its cradle, grabbed my purse and the keys and turning over the open sign to closed, let myself out of the building.
I headed over to Grant’s office. Everything looked so normal, I wished that I felt normal. I wished, in a way, that I had thrown Grant’s notification letter away. But then again, I was glad I was here. My heart began to beat a little faster just at the thought of seeing Grant. I wondered what he was doing at his office on a Saturday.
I trotted up the stairs to his office. Alice sat behind her desk, on the phone. I headed for Grant’s office as she placed her fingers over the mouthpiece. “He left,” she said.
Left! He called me just a few minutes ago. Alice had a frown on her face, listening to her caller, so I didn’t interrupt her. Sitting down in the chair next to her desk, I could feel her eyes watching me. What is going on? Why was she working on a Saturday?
Her conversation finally ended and she turned to me. “He received a phone call from Bitsy after he called you and he had to leave.”
“Did he say where, or why?”
“No. But he wasn’t happy.”
“Do you know why he wanted me to come over here?”
Alice snorted. “He doesn’t tell me anything.”
“When will he be back?”
“I don’t know that either. I surely don’t know how that man expects me to run his office when he won’t tell me anything.”
“What are you doing here on a Saturday?” I asked.
She snorted. “Got us a big trial on Monday morning. You being here has messed up our schedule. So I have to work on a Saturday afternoon, thanks to you.”
“I’m sorry.”
All that got was another snort as she went back to her computer screen.
I sat there a moment longer. Then decided that I better go back to the shop and search the office. I’ve put it off for too long already. Getting up and walking to the door, as I turned the doorknob, Alice spoke. “You shouldn’t be here.”
I was getting tired of this. I turned to face her. “Make up your mind. Just days ago you called me a coward when I was about to leave. Now I ‘shouldn’t be here.’ Well, get over it. I’m here, whether you like it or not, and I’m here to stay until I get to the truth.”
She glowered at me. What was with everyone in this town? I decided to throw her a bone. “Your husband wouldn’t be my father, would he?”
She looked stunned for a moment, then she started to laugh. It came from deep inside of her, a loud booming sound. She slapped her hand on her desk and reached for a tissue with the other one. She couldn’t stop laughing.
“Girl, you are something else. You’re way too white to be my hubby’s offspring. though he did like Maudie. Lord, what you thinking asking a dumb question like that?” She wiped her eyes with the tissue.
“Well, after all the talk in town, I just wanted to cross his name off my list.”
She turned serious then. “You got my husband’s name on a list?”
It was my turn to laugh. “No, Alice. I’m kidding. But everyone is looking at every man in town old enough to be my father and wondering. I’m tired of wondering, I’m just asking now.”
“Anybody ‘fess up yet?”
“No.”
She stared at me for a moment. Her eyes looked down at her hands. For some reason she didn’t want to look me in the eyes.
“You want me to ask around in my neighborhood?”
“Your neighborhood?” I asked.
She turned sassy again. “Yeah, my neighborhood. Who you think does all the house cleaning in this town? We know more about what’s going on then everyone gives us credit for, we get a big laugh at all the shenanigans that people do when they don’t even take into account that we are there.”
Her face saddened. “We may be black, but a lot of people who hire us, don’t even see us.”
“I would appreciate any cooperation from any source.”
She snorted. “That’s what I figured. I’ll ask around, some of the older women should know something.” Her eyes flashed at me, a touch of anger crouched there. “I won’t be sugar-coating anything. What’s said is what’s said.”
I gave her a half smile. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you Alice.” Then I left. I could hear her laughing again as I closed the door.
* * *
July 4, 1963
I wanted to laugh, instead I cried.
It’s strange how life works.
Everyone has values and beliefs.
Beliefs that we learned while growing up. We believe them to be true. However, beliefs can sometimes be false.
But, since we believe in them, we hang on to the truth as we know it to be.
I believe that if you live a good life you will be rewarded.
I believe that every child should have a mother and a father. My own were absolutely wonderful, especially later. When I needed them the most.
I believe that people should be married before intimate relations begin.
When I was a teenager, it was all so clear.
Marriage first.
I asked too much.
When they persisted, I dropped them.
I didn’t want the name “slut” attached to me.
So, they called me a “tease” instead.
If only they knew.
I laughed at them because I was out of tears.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I brought the drawer that was upstairs down and set it on the check-out counter. The light was better there than in the office, and I was supposed to keep the store open. I moved the trash can closer as it looked like it was going to get some heavy use.
Plock, plock, plock. I dropped items into the trash.
Maudie seemed to have a penchant for keeping empty envelopes. I came across a few bills, long overdue, however as the lights were still on, I placed them in a to-be-checked pile. There was a cigar box, one of the old cardboard kind, that was exceedingly heavy when I picked it up. Opening the lid, I discovered a cache of costume jewelry.
There was a coral necklace, one of several earrings, gaudy pieces with missing stones, a strange collection, to say the least.
The door chime rang as the front door opened. It was T-Jack. I pasted a smile on my face. “Hey.”
“Have you seen Bitsy?” He asked harshly.
“No. Why?”
He wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “Silas is going nuts worrying about her. I told him I’d help find her.”
Wondering if I should tell him about Grant, I decided to play dumb for a change.
“Isn’t she on vacation with Naomi?”
“Naomi?”
“That’s what Della at Hank’s said.”
He looked relieved. Giving me a salute, he rushed out the door.
I watched him as he went off in the direction of the Hole.
Wouldn’t Silas have known that Bitsy went with Naomi? I took the time to write that down in the notebook. At the
rate I was going, I would have a notebook filled with seemingly unrelated information. Like a puzzle, waiting for someone to place all the pieces neatly in their slots.
I picked up the empty drawer and pushed it back in its hole in the desk and pulled out the drawer under it. Another descent into hell. Maudie was so neat out in the store area, it was hard to believe that her office was such a mess. Especially the top of her desk. It was unbelievable. There was even a pith helmet on top of a stack of magazines.
There were only a few customers that afternoon, mostly strangers out on a Saturday looking for antiques. I sold a few items and rang up the sales.
In between, I cleaned out the contents of Maudie’s desk. It was slow going. I formed piles of stuff that I would have to ask Grant about. I emptied the trash can three times. The top of the desk looked daunting. But I slowly went through the piles.
A lot of them were antique magazines. I put them in a box to read later.
Maudie also had a bookcase in her office that ran across one wall. I decided that I would have to go through it later. Maybe there was a journal or something there. My mind turned the question over. A journal.
Where would I keep a journal?
Someplace close at hand, that’s for sure. So it would either be here or upstairs. I groaned. The upstairs bookcase was intimidating and we’d stopped looking when the photograph book was found.
I checked the pendulum clock, and it was close enough to six to lock up. I was starving. I wondered why Grant never called me. Then I wondered what he was doing. I locked up and went upstairs to fix myself a sandwich. As I reached the top of the stairs, I noticed that Grant’s bedroom door was closed. It was open when we went to lunch.
I stopped. My heart was racing. We kept the place locked. Grant and I had the only keys that I was aware of, so who was in Grant’s bedroom?
Removing my shoes by the staircase, I tiptoed across the room, avoiding the one spot that I knew squeaked. I didn’t know if I would need a weapon or not, if I should just open the door or knock. What if Grant had come back and hadn’t let me know?
My chicken heart came out, so I yelled. “Grant!”
No answer. I tiptoed to his door, and rapped. “Grant, let me in.”
No answer.
I took the doorknob and turned it slowly. The door swung open, there was someone in the bed.
I could smell alcohol. A lot of it. I wondered if Randall, the town drunk had managed to get in. I silently walked over to the bed and pulled back the covers.
Oh...my...God. It was Grant. A beaten-up, bruised Grant.
“Grant! Wake up!” I shook him and he finally opened a red eye.
“Call my dad.” He mumbled.
“Forget your dad, let me call the police, do you need an ambulance?”
His hand leapt out from under the covers and grabbed my wrist. “No. My dad.” His eyes looked pleadingly at me. “Please.”
I touched his face. He was burning up. So I picked up the phone and as my fingers went toward the numbers.
“Grant, what’s the number?”
He mumbled the digits as I punched them in. It took six rings before someone picked up the other end.
It was Lenny who greeted me.
“Wassup!”
“Someone beat the hell out of your son. Get over here quick.”
“Huh?”
“Damn it Lenny, someone beat up Grant. Get over here right now.”
The phone hung up in my ear, so I guess he got the message.
I rushed into Grant’s bathroom, wet a washcloth and went back to wipe off his face.
My hands shook.
“Who did this?” I asked Grant.
He didn’t answer.
So I guessed. “Silas?”
“No. It was Tina.”
“Tina! Tina beat you up like this? She whipped the tar out of you.”
Grant slowly sat up and taking the cloth out of my hand began to wipe his face.
“I didn’t fight back.” He mumbled.
That stunned me. “Why not?”
He gave me a ‘duh’ look. “How would that look, me beating up a woman.”
I grabbed the washcloth out of his hand and wacked him on the arm with it. “It would look smart for one, instead of you looking like a punching bag.”
“Well.” He turned and dragged his legs off the bed. He must have felt dizzy as he dropped his head on his hands.
I pushed back his hair with my hand. “Why did she feel the urge to knock some sense into you?”
“You are a smart-ass,” he said.
“That’s common knowledge. Why did she go after you? I thought you were seeing Bitsy.”
“It’s a long story.”
“Then hurry up, your dad will be here soon.”
He groaned. “Wait, let me tell it just one time.”
I gave him a dirty look, I hate waiting.
“Coffee?” I asked.
“Beer would be better.”
“With aspirin?”
“Definitely.”
Grant drowned his aspirin with water from the sink. His beer waiting nearby. He managed to move from his bed to the kitchen. Barely.
“What did she hit you with, a baseball bat?”
He looked at me like I was a fortune teller.
“Yes. Then a car.”
“A car!”
He slapped his hands over his ears. “Please. My head.”
I lowered my voice to a deep growl. “She hit you with a car?”
He sat at the table, dragging his beer with him. “Wait for Dad please.”
The downstairs doorbell rang, then rang again. Lenny’s finger was giving it a total workout. “Coming!” I yelled. I trotted down the stairs and opened the door.
Both Lenny and Margie were standing there.
“Where is he?” Lenny asked.
I pointed up the stairs and Lenny took the stairs two at a time.
Margie grabbed my arm. Worry marked her face.
“Is he all right?”
I pulled her into a hug. “He seems to be. But I don’t want to miss what he has to say, he wouldn’t talk to me unless Lenny was there.”
We walked up the stairs. Grant was drinking his beer. Lenny was fixing a mixed drink. He looked like he needed one.
I seldom drink and I needed one.
Margie and I sat side-by-side on the sofa, waiting for Grant to begin.
He took one last swallow of beer, burped, then sat.
“Never scorn a woman. They get violent.”
Now, that was a mild understatement if I ever heard one.
“Alice told me you were meeting Bitsy.”
He shook his head and grimaced. “I thought it was Bitsy on the phone. It was Tina. She wanted to get things straight between us.”
Lenny interjected. “With a baseball bat and a car?”
“Well, it got a little out of hand.” Grant said.
“What made her that angry?” Margie asked.
Grant looked at me.
Oh, Lord. He didn’t tell her about us!
“I told her that we were finished. She didn’t take highly to the notion.”
“That bitch should be in jail.” Lenny said.
Grant sighed. “She is.”
I think we were all stunned with that remark.
“She only grazed me with the car, but she hit the sheriff’s personal truck and his dog fell out of the back and was hurt. So, he arrested her.” Grant said.
Lenny started to laugh. “Hell, boy. Everyone in town knows how much he treasures his truck and his dog. Best coon dog around here.”
Lenny was so tickled he slapped his knee.
I didn’t quite get the humor of the situation. “Let me get this straight, he put her in jail because of the truck and dog and not because she hit you?”
“I didn’t want to press charges. The dog and truck ought to keep her out of trouble for a while.” Grant said.
“Well, I certainly hope she’s given up o
n the idea that you’re going to marry her.” Margie said.
I looked at Grant. What he said here was going to be important.
“I’m never getting married,” he said.
What a lout. I wished I had a baseball bat myself.
“So what happened with Tina?” Lenny asked.
“Tina called me on the phone stating that she knew where Bitsy was.”
“Why would you even think that Bitsy was at Tina’s apartment?” Lenny asked.
“I wasn’t thinking. At the time she said that Bitsy was at her place, and that Silas beat her up.”
Margie held a hand to her face. “Oh no.”
Grant looked in her direction. “Oh no is right.”
“What happened when you got there?”
“Tina was crying, so I thought that Bitsy was inside, so in I went, like a fool. But no Bitsy. Tina headed back to her bedroom.”
So the lout knew where her bedroom was? Well, he wasn’t totally stupid, he was an attorney, all apartments have the bedrooms located somewhere else than in the living room.
“I followed her and her bedroom was empty. When I turned around, she hit me in the side with a baseball bat.”
“Did she say why?”
Grant turned his gaze my way. “No. But I guess she heard rumors about Sara and me.”
“What sort of rumors?” Lenny asked.
“Just rumors, you know...rumors.”
Lenny looked in my direction and saw my heated blush.
“Oh.” He understood that something might not be a rumor. I hoped he didn’t guess what. That would be embarrassing.
“Was there anything else said?” Lenny asked.
“No. I grabbed the baseball bat out of her hands and left. She came out after me, screaming at the top of her lungs that I was hers and nobody was taking what was hers.”
“As I was walking to my car, she sprinted to hers first.”
He rubbed his knee.
“I didn’t think that she would actually hit me with her car.”
Margie asked. “Why would she do that?”
Grant shook his head. “I honestly think that when she went in reverse to get out of her driveway that she struck me accidently.”
I bet.
“But when she hit me again, I knew it was on purpose.”
Lenny jumped up as he shouted. “She hit you twice!”
The Devil Has Dimples Page 13