by Lee Lynch
Berry said, “You have to admire lawyers. They get things done.”
Gran made an unpleasant face. “I don’t have to at all. We should have been at the hospital long ago.”
Jaudon got off her chair and lay on the wood floor. The dizziness eased a bit.
Berry was cross-legged on the floor with Jaudon’s head in her lap when the short officer came to release them. Jaudon refused an ambulance, but let him pull her up. She held the bloody bandana over her bandaged ear and shuffled along between Berry and Gran, behind Momma and Pops, not her jaunty self at all.
In the vestibule, the lawyer explained that Berry and Jaudon were not under arrest because the sheriff didn’t have a shred of proof that the girls knew a federal warrant had been issued for Allison, or that they hid the fugitive, or intended to prevent Allison’s arrest. They had nothing but a tip from an unnamed member of the public.
Berry thought this was the type of sneaky thing Eddie Dill used to do, hoping for a reward. Or maybe a jealous Lari. Was one of the newer women’s group members an undercover cop? Had one of them told a disapproving husband? They talked about the need for silence, but she saw how dimwitted women could be around their men. Poor Gran, for one.
Allison was right—someone had been watching her from the woods.
*
After work the next day Jaudon poured iced tea and swallowed aspirin. She jumped when Berry appeared at her side. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Stop stirring for a minute, angel. That ear looks grisly. Hold up.” Berry used a paper napkin to pat inside Jaudon’s ear. “We’re going back to the emergency room.”
“But I’m tired.”
“You’ve never been tired before in your life. You have an injury and maybe an infection and it’s taking all your energy to fight it. No telling what else it’ll do to you. I’ll drive. Bring that tea with you.”
“Jiminy, Berry. It’s one thing after another. Is our whole life going to be this brambly?”
“You mean, perfect despite a few bumps in the road?” Berry hugged her. Ever since the ride in the deputies’ car, she’d kept the calm of relying on the Great Spirit for longer and longer periods of time. “I am so happy every day, Jaudon, to be with you, studying what I want, living in your Pops’s house, having friends. We need to stop the infection before it sneaks into your brain like a snake in a bird’s nest or knocks out the rest of your hearing.”
“Knock out my hearing? It better not. I need to hear my customers.”
“And not your wife?” Berry was teasing, in her quiet, coy way.
Jaudon lifted her off the floor in a crushing embrace. “I love you, my Georgia gal. No way will I settle for not paying attention to you, if you have to bang me over the head with a rusty skillet to get my attention.”
The hospital wasn’t busy at that time on a weeknight. Jaudon was taken to an examining room and Berry went with her, telling the nurse they were best friends. Jaudon had suggested she claim kinship, at least cousin—she might need to hire on at the hospital someday—but Berry would not lie to save her soul. She imagined fighting to stay at Jaudon’s side if she had to, but she would not lie. Her quiet, polite insistence did the trick.
They left two hours later with a referral. The ER physician gave Jaudon antibiotics. He didn’t find signs of a fracture, but said she’d definitely been concussed. After a serious lecture, he called an ENT guy he knew. He would see her the next day. Against Momma’s wishes, Pops always insisted the company provide health insurance because so many employees were relations of one sort or another.
“I don’t have time to be seeing specialists,” she said the next morning, although Olive was covering for her.
Berry tsked. “Neither do I. Now get in the van.”
The specialist told them Jaudon had a ruptured eardrum, without a doubt caused by that fall against the concrete step. Bacteria had been able to quickly invade the middle ear and start the infection. He assured them the antibiotic was designed to clear that up and ruptured eardrums typically healed on their own. He sent them off with a follow-up appointment for a hearing test which Jaudon didn’t intend to keep.
“I don’t need some test to tell me whether I can hear or not. The pain isn’t bad,” she told Berry. “He said the rest was going to heal up, remember?”
“Jaudon, you can’t hear out of that ear.”
“Well, what are they going to do? Sew it up? They’re not sticking anything in there. I’m a quick healer. Give it time. Nursing school makes you think we need to go to a doctor for every cut and sneeze.”
Berry sunk her chin down. There was no arguing with her bullheaded beloved. She got that from Momma Vicker. From Pops she learned her cavalier way of ignoring her health. Jaudon always put Berry and the store before herself. There wasn’t much for Berry to do other than pray for her. And for Allison and Cullie. She looked up. “The stars are out.”
“What?”
She pointed skyward. “Stars.” Her voice was louder than she meant it to be.
“Nothing wrong with my sight,” said Jaudon in a huff.
Berry smiled, but thought, This is going to be a trial for both of us.
Chapter Twenty-three
When Jaudon and her headache arrived at the Beverage Bay the next morning, Rigo was waiting outside in a white shirt, tie, tropical weight trousers, shined shoes, and that outrageous curly head of red hair.
She was doing a lot better, but the buzzing and difficulty hearing persisted. “Rigo, we don’t serve breakfast here. Or did you run out of ciggies?”
Rigo answered, “Actually, I was told there is no smoking on the job.”
Her hearing was never going to improve. She was so nauseous that first day after their arrests she was glad that Berry had insisted on the emergency room. They hadn’t yet picked up the van from Cullie’s sister’s place and Cullie’s truck had been impounded. Berry took the bus to school.
She asked Rigo to repeat what he said and turned her normal ear toward him. “On what job? You don’t need to work.”
“It was either this or my father was going to sneak me into Cuba to give me experience on a plantation. He thinks the US is going to rescue his lands. He also thinks that because he’s always worked like a dog, I should too.”
She was setting up the cash register in anticipation of opening when she put two and two together. Cousin Cal had completed his military obligations and Jaudon found him dribs and drabs of hours at her store. But last week Cal found a full-time motorcycle repair job. “Wait—you’re replacing Cal? You’re working here?”
Rigo’s words were muffled again and she leaned her head toward him.
“I interviewed with your mother yesterday. Definitely snowed her. Told her my last name is Italian, not Spanish.”
“I didn’t know you had it in you to act straight.”
“You kidding? In my family?”
Jaudon had a good chuckle, imagining Rigo playing lumberjack or a quarterback.
“So Momma’s plan to do the hiring ricocheted,” she said, surprised at her enormous relief. She massaged her head with both hands. This headache won’t go on forever, she assured herself, not with Rigo here, making me laugh.
“She informed me I was to report here when you do until I’m trained. My classes are at night this term, the same as yours, and I’m free weekend days.”
As she showed Rigo how to operate their cash register, she realized what was bothering her. “How did you know Momma was hiring?”
“A little birdie told me you might have lost your help and weren’t feeling so hot.”
“Did the birdie have a name I might recognize?”
Rigo rounded up the loose paper clips on the counter and handed them to her. She pushed them down into an empty Band-Aid tin. “When I called to tell Berry I managed to avoid arrest—imagine being arrested for marching for peace—she gave me the rundown on your troubles, both with the cops and the store.”
“I thought you were in that demonstra
tion. We were there in the police station too.”
“Berry told me. It wasn’t possible to talk to you anyway.”
“And Momma hired you with a criminal record?”
“I wasn’t locked in the jailhouse. The cops wanted us off the street. They interviewed us and anyone under twenty-one had to have a parent take us home.”
“Is this your father’s way of punishing you, making you earn your living?”
Rigo’s skin was a tawny shade, but with the heat of embarrassment, he flushed like a true redhead. He was saved by the entry of a car and fled to the driver’s window. It was a gray-haired couple who came in once a week for their supply of pilsner. They kept Rigo chatting for a while.
He hustled to the counter and stopped at Jaudon’s accusation. “So Berry put you up to this.”
“Ah…”
“You are the worst liar, Rigo. I swear, you’d call a puddle an ocean if I wasn’t looking at it.”
“I needed a job, I swear.”
“And Berry was looking for a bodyguard for me. What will you do if the police come again?”
“Get hold of Berry or your momma.”
“Jiminy. Momma’s in on this?”
“She told me you can’t hear a thunder peal if it goes off on the side of your damaged ear. I have instructions from Berry to do all the ladder work and anything else that involves balance and heights.”
“I see the doctor again next week. I expect it’ll fix itself before I see him. If not, I’ll wring Allison’s and Cullie’s scrawny feminist necks. I don’t suppose you heard any news of them?”
“You think those women will take me, the male oppressor, into their confidence? No, I haven’t picked up any news, but Berry asked some time ago if I might hide Allison. Oh, missy, I told her, you know I can’t do that. My father’s applying for his US citizenship. Bad enough I got caught in the demo. The US should want someone who’s paying taxes on his smoke stores, but no, they’re afraid Cubans are communists so they’re giving him a hard time.” Rigo rolled his shoulders and shook himself as if to be rid of these worries. “Thank God I didn’t take Allison in, after what Berry told me happened at your place.”
“Your father doesn’t mind you working for a competitor?”
“You must be joking. Look what you sell.” Rigo pulled out a pack of cigarillos, Corona and Dutch Masters tubes, and some Swisher Sweets cigars. “My father’s a cigar snob. He won’t let any of these in his store. I’ll take you there sometime.”
As they worked, it was plain people enjoyed Rigo. He managed to temper his queenliness. We’ll see how long that lasts, she thought. She watched him carry one six-pack on each shoulder to a waiting driver, a woman, who tipped him with some coins. No wonder Momma hired him. She’d seen girls drool over his boyish charms; she was worried about some of the rougher men who came in because they were the ones Rigo seemed to warm to most.
They finished with the noon rush and sat behind the counter on two tobacco roller chairs Pops bought when one of the cigar factories closed. A fat fly circled their heads. Jaudon swatted at it when it passed her good ear. Rigo grabbed a spray can of insecticide and drowned it in the air.
“How’s your home life since Allison got you two in hot water?”
“I wish, Rigo, feminism was never invented.”
“Don’t you want to be equal?”
“I’m equal enough—to men. It’s those women Berry’s involved with. They act all biggity if I come home and walk in on one of their get-togethers. It could be that the sight of me reminds them that Berry and I are an item. Berry says they were miffed when they found out Allison was family, as miffed as if she’d betrayed them.”
“None of them are gay?”
“Cullie. And Lari of course.”
“That bitch. She’s in with them? I should have known.”
“She doesn’t come to meetings at our place anymore.”
“So they don’t know about you and Berry.”
“They do, but don’t want to. I’d love to walk in and give Berry a great big kiss on the lips in front of them to shock some sense into their heads.”
“Why don’t you, hon?”
“Aw, Rigo, I won’t do that to Berry—they’re her friends.”
“What’s their appeal for our Berry?”
“She doesn’t care for some of the things men do—hitting women, fighting wars, cementing over farmland, and running everything. She thinks women might do a better job.”
“So that’s what feminism is about. I’m inclined to agree with her. But I can’t abide the man-hating part. Some men treat women like tornados in a trailer park. Not me. To me, they’re ladies.”
“Berry says that’s demeaning too. Treating women as if we’re born fragile makes us think we can’t do for ourselves. We’re capable, she says, of sitting at a table without someone shoving a chair under our rear ends.”
“Well, excuse me for my good manners. How do you live in the same house with so many rules?”
“I keep hoping she’ll boomerang to her old self one of these days. We seem so far apart. Where’s my innocent Berry? This women’s politics thing is as strict as her family’s old religion.” Jaudon placed a hand over her ear to stop the buzzing—her hand came away wet. The ear continued leaking. Aw, heck, she thought. “I do love Berry for having principles and sticking to them.”
Behind the shelving area, across the building from them, a jar crashed to the floor. It was so loud, Jaudon heard it over the buzzing. They looked at each other.
“Those darn kids.”
She started to hustle over there, but Rigo stopped her. “Go look after your ear. This is my job now,” he said.
Jaudon waited about fifteen seconds before following him.
*
“Easy, boy.”
Rigo was skipping backward along the aisle and collided with her. Allison was pummeling him with their gear.
“Quit that,” Jaudon called, propping Rigo up.
Cullie dropped her fists. She looked Rigo up and down. “Who is he?”
“What?” Jaudon strained to hear. “He works here. Let him alone.”
She saw him wink, smile, and extend his pinkie finger, complete with sparkling ring. Cullie’s eyebrows went up and, behind Allison, she copied him, down to the wink.
Allison asked, “How do you know he’s not a plant?”
Rigo planted a hand on his hip, tapped his foot, and looked to the heavens. Once again, out of Allison’s sight, Cullie did the same.
“Rigo is a close friend of ours. He belongs here.” She emphasized the word he, to get Allison’s goat.
By this time, Cullie and Rigo were mirroring each other’s every move, as if dancing. They bumped shoulders and broke out laughing. Jaudon joined them.
“I loved this woman at first sight.” Rigo snaked an arm around Cullie’s shoulders. He turned to Allison. “And I’m here to protect Jaudon.”
A black car with a tall antenna braked sharply, in the way of the city police. Allison and Cullie, dog in arms, snuck out of sight.
Jaudon’s heart beat double time, but it was construction guys on break. She served them cold bottles of soda.
“Call if you need me,” she told Rigo. He loved waiting on construction workers. By the rear exit, she found Allison and Cullie with a small selection of food.
Cullie gazed at her filthy white sneakers. “We wrecked my sister’s car.”
“Aw, heck, Cullie.” What pitiful dopes, she thought, teary at their follies. She was tired of being mad at Allison and her heedless altruism. Cullie was too infatuated to be held responsible for her dumb decisions, if they were decisions at all, but she was drawn to Cullie and wanted to be friends. It was almost funny, the scrapes they got themselves and everyone around them into. Funny like slapstick humor.
Kirby licked Jaudon’s hand. She petted her and found that Kirby was a lot cleaner than either Cullie or Allison.
Cullie pressed her lips into a straight line. “I feel about
two cents.”
“We’re hungry,” said Allison.
Cullie nodded so hard her bowler went askew.
“We’ve been drinking from yard hoses, washing at culverts. Our money is gone. We eat fallen fruit and what we find in restaurant trash, use gas station bathrooms or the woods.”
“You two are a sad sight. Take what you need,” Jaudon said. She would pay for the goods herself.
“Thanky, thanky.” Cullie held her two thumbs up.
“How far did you go?”
“We never left the Panhandle because we stayed on the shore roads and didn’t speed.”
“You weren’t spotted?”
Allison’s face looked pinched. “No. We drove after dark and slept on beaches during the day. This happened in a speck of a town called, of all things, Panacea, where we heard there was a peace encampment. We were headed to the beach when the guy drove out of a side street toward the Coastal Highway fast as a rocket. There was a stop sign, for goodness sake.”
“He hit the engine compartment. Destroyed it.” Cullie clapped together the heels of her hands. “We wore our seat belts and the car spun around like a kid’s toy top, blowing out the tires. If he’d hit a second later, good-bye Allison.”
“Why did you resurface here? You should have left the state.”
“How could we sneak out without wheels?” The dog grumbled in Cullie’s arms, struggling to climb down. “The local yokel who hit us was driving a muddy flatbed pickup with big wheels and a motorcycle in the bed, but he turned out to be too nice to stay mad at.”
Allison said, “He apologized dozens of times.”
“He went so far as to leave his bike with a neighbor and load the car on his truck—the neighbor came out with a set of steel ramps and helped push the car on and chain it down. The driver gave us his insurance information and drove the car way over to my sister’s place.”
“We asked to be let off on Route 19 because we were too tired to face her. We did call though,” Allison added.
“Sure had me feeling sheepish.” Cullie buried her face in Kirby’s fur.