by Lee Lynch
“We walked and hitched from 19.”
Jaudon’s eyes were caught by the flapping sole of Cullie’s sneaker. She tilted her head to one side, more exasperated than sympathetic at the moment. “So you have no place to stay, no car, no money.” She took bandages and Mercurochrome from the shelf and handed them to Cullie. “Nothing to show for your trip but blisters. Too bad the police have your truck.”
“It’s just as well. The truck drives okay for around here, but we’d have to have a tow truck follow us across the whole US of A.”
Allison was in tears. “I thought I exposed a terrible crime—it turns out I’m the criminal. I don’t know where to turn.”
Rigo came up behind Jaudon and spoke by her good ear. “May I suggest an unthinkable solution? It’s old fashioned, but it’s tried and true. Why don’t you dress as a hippie boy, Allison? Cullie, you can pass as is. That way you could hitch or borrow enough for bus fare.”
Allison raised her eyebrows in what appeared to be horror.
“I’m all for it, jujube.” Cullie squeezed Allison to her. “It’s worked before.”
“Only in the movies.”
Rigo brushed the wrinkles from his sleeves and pants.
Jaudon reassured Allison. “You don’t have to do it forever.”
“Did you quit the pool cleaners, Cullie? Do you have a paycheck coming?” Jaudon hoped she hadn’t thrown away her job for Allison.
“I told them I had a family emergency. They’ll hold my paycheck, but I don’t dare pick it up. If I cash it the police might catch on.” She smiled as if she wasn’t worried. “It’s not the greatest job. The best part was being butch and threatening to drown anyone who dared pee in a pool.”
“It’s time to ask your pals for loans,” Rigo said. “And one of them should go buy your tickets so you can stay hidden until the last second before the bus leaves. You’ll need food money too. After all, you’re fighting their battles for them. I can help with clothes—I never throw anything out so I have some that should fit Allison.”
“But my poor little coconut can’t go on the bus.”
“You’ll find a way, Cullie.” Jaudon was at the end of her rope; she needed to rid herself of Allison. Hands on her hips she glared at the two of them. Berry had to call her feminist pals tonight and drum up cash for Allison lickety-split. Jaudon was fine with the woman when she wasn’t wreaking havoc, but Berry’s unquestioning loyalty was inexplicable—was Allison sort of a mother for Berry?
“I might be able to dig up fake IDs. I’ll bring clothes to the store tomorrow.”
“Like hell you will, Rigo. Meet them at your college. You two put your food in this poke and hike as far away from me and Berry as you can before I manhandle you out of my store.”
Allison’s face was angry, but as she opened her mouth, Cullie straightened from her accustomed slump and raised one of Kirby’s paws in a salute. “Much obliged,” Cullie said. Jaudon pointed to the door, trying to make a tough face.
Rigo reached in his pants pocket. “Here’s my car keys. I’m off in a while. Keep out of sight in the car. You can stay at my place tonight if you can stand to.”
When they were alone, she asked Rigo, “Well, Mr. Good Samaritan, where in tarnation are you going to find fake IDs?”
“My dad has contacts. He helps out people who manage to come over on the boats.”
“Isn’t that plum handy?”
“Don’t knock it. You’d do the same for your family.”
“But you’re doing it for two feminists who think you’re no better than a flying roach, Rigo.”
“Remember, I’m on their side, whether they want me or not. Didn’t they pull at your heartstrings? Cullie’s the kind to lay down her life for that belle of a rabble rouser who got herself in over her head. As a matter of fact, I’ll feed and dress them, buy them a pet carrier, and front the money so they can leave town on the first bus that will take the dog.”
“If you ask me, Cullie would lay down her life for the dog first. She reminds me of a big lost puppy herself. A very smart, resourceful puppy with a heart as big as the Gulf of Mexico. As far as I’m concerned, Allison’s adventures, nutty as they seem, are rescuing Cullie somehow, not the other way around. It’s the people looking for their way who latch on to the lost.”
She’d have to chew on that for a while to figure if she was one of the lost.
Chapter Twenty-four
Early Spring 1974
Cullie showed up outside the hospital where Berry was tutoring a freshman nursing student. Cullie leaned on Berry and Jaudon’s van, smoking. Kirby was on a leash at her feet. A luminously red cardinal dashed into the tree above them.
“You’re back,” said Berry and reached for a hug, surprised at how excited and relieved she was to see Cullie.
“I’m back.” Cullie dropped the butt and ground it out with the heel of pair of scratched and otherwise wounded cowboy boots. She bent to hug Berry. “As desirable and available as ever.”
“Available?”
“You don’t think one woman is enough for me, do you?”
Berry thought she heard anguish through Cullie’s teasing. “Where’s Allison?”
Cullie’s words came in a mutter. “Still on Birthday Mountain.”
“On her women’s land, like she wanted?”
“Like she wanted.” Cullie didn’t meet her eyes.
“We haven’t heard a word from you in all this time. How did you two manage at last to cross the country?”
“Rigo put us on the bus to Atlanta and Allison’s family loaned her money to buy a used car. They’re embarrassed enough by her love life and politics to want to jump between her and trouble before it reflects on them. The Millars are pretty much big shots in political circles up in Atlanta. Republican circles.”
“Why didn’t you stay out there with her?”
“I guess I’m not a West Coast sort of person. Say, any chance of a ride to my truck? Providing you left it parked in the woods by your house.”
It was very plain on Cullie’s face that whatever happened out there caused her to grieve. Berry wanted to console her, but stopped herself. Was it consolation she wanted to give Cullie? Had she detected a little spark in herself that shouldn’t be there?
“Jaudon and I got your truck from the police and took it to your sister’s place.”
Cullie met her eyes for the first time. “They took my truck? You paid the impound fees?” Cullie leapt to hug Berry. “I’ll pay you back, and then I want you to adopt me. You’re too good to just be my friends—I want you for family.”
Berry laughed. “I missed you all over the place, Cullie.” She stopped herself from grabbing another hug. In no way did she want to be attracted to Cullie. Most of all, she didn’t want Jaudon, or worse, Cullie, to catch on that she might be.
“Your sister’s isn’t on the other side of the moon, Cullie.”
“But that was nice of you.” Cullie took out another cigarette. When she lifted her eyes to Berry’s, over the light of the match, they looked stricken. “Allison hated for me to smoke, said I stank when I did. I’m never giving these up, they’re my freedom.”
Berry wanted her to be part of their little family. “Sure I’ll give you a ride, but I’d rather you were our sister than our daughter.” She wondered if she might have a blood sister somewhere and if she’d ever know. “We need to pick up Jaudon from the store on the way. I know she’ll be glad to see you too.”
“I missed my buddy Jaudo. Thanks for the ride. I came in at the bus station and hitched over here.”
“Come on. Have you eaten?”
“Not hungry.”
“Heart ache much?”
“If hurt was food, you could feed the world.”
“You knew she wasn’t the kind to settle down.”
“She told me it was different with me. The whole trip west we talked about starting out new, about me finding work and her staying underground on women’s land. There aren’t many pools ne
eding cleaning in the woods of the Pacific Northwest.”
Berry nodded, sad for Cullie and her lost hopes.
“A letter from Allison’s lawyer came a couple of weeks ago. He told her the police offered to drop the charges against her if she’d give testimony about the militants and drop her lawsuit. Since Allison knew nothing about the radicals except what their apartment looked like, she could do them no harm. Her little bit of savings was running out. She agreed. The government promised to pay her round-trip plane fare to testify. Last I heard, the lawyer was negotiating.”
“Why didn’t she come home with you?”
“She half moved into her ex-lover’s cabin a couple of months ago. They built it together when they first got to the land. I stayed in our cabin and tried to fit in. It was kinda hard, knowing she was a few yards away and wanted me to share her, but that’s the new way: loving someone doesn’t mean you own them.”
“Oh, Cullie. I’m so sorry,” she said, and she was sorry at the same time she was glad Cullie had come home. She chided herself. The last thing Cullie needed was someone with a crush on her. At least, she told herself, I’m learning I’m as vulnerable as Jaudon when it comes to having my head turned.
“Like you said, she’s not made to settle down. I think she wanted to, but when she had the option, she didn’t want to anymore. That weasel she reunited with worked on her since the day we arrived. We didn’t talk much recently.”
“You’ll find someone closer to home, Cullie. A nice Florida woman.”
Cullie thrust her chin upward and declared, “My leetle dogolette is company enough for me.”
“Honey, you surely do need someone. Most of us do.”
“Allison will come visit if she has to travel east to testify.”
Berry watched Cullie’s hopeful face, but held off lest she say stinging words herself. “I’m not looking forward to that day. Allison taught us a heap, but I don’t like her hurting you one single bit.” She started the van. “We better get on the stick. Jaudon will worry if I’m late.”
On the way, Cullie was earnest for a change. “There is one thing I learned out there. I loved Birthday Mountain. What a slick notion: women’s land. If only it was here. We’d call it Birthday Mountain East.”
Berry envisioned Gran’s land, where the sinkhole was. It was swampy and snaky, supported dozens of wild hogs, and there was that mushroom smell part of the year. It might be a start until they found a permanent spot. She couldn’t see anyone living more respectfully on that piece of property than starry-eyed feminists.
“Now wouldn’t that be a sight for sore eyes,” she told Cullie. “Imagine, a women’s health center for the women living on and visiting women’s land. I hope you’ll look into it.”
Cullie patted Kirby on the head. “A place for dogs to run. Smokers’ land too, not like out West.”
“They’re the smart ones, Cullie, the nonsmokers.”
“Exactly what Allison told me.”
“She was correct about that, though.” Cullie looked disgusted so Berry changed the subject. “Did they have a shelter there for women assaulted by their men?”
“They were talking about that. I don’t believe anything is set up yet.”
“What a wonderful time to be alive,” Berry said. “We don’t have to scrape a living from the land and can concentrate on making the world a better place.”
“You’re such a sweet-tempered woman, Berry. I hope Jaudon treats you like a princess.”
“Oh, she does. I’m not always sweet, but I’m working on it. There’s no one I’d rather spend my life with. She is completely at sea about my involvement with you women, though.”
“Jaudon doesn’t get feminism?”
“She will, but presently she has other fish to fry. Jaudon’s old-fashioned. She thinks protesting the war is unpatriotic. To her, civil rights activism is rabble-rousing, though she believes in the cause. Of course, Jaudon also believes in the War of Northern Aggression rather than the Civil War, but at the same time, she’s ashamed of the South for keeping slaves.”
“My folks are both teachers,” Cullie reminded her, “and taught us different, but that’s not an unusual attitude in someone from a Southern family that worked its way up from almost nothing.”
“And that’s okay, because she’s a fair employer. Down the line, working at a Beverage Bay may be a fine start for some women we’ll be working with. Jaudon makes the job playful.”
As they arrived, Jaudon was locking up. She slid the van’s side door open when she saw Cullie up front.
“Whatchu doing here?” she asked. Cullie looked in bad shape. Berry cut her eyes at her in the rearview mirror. Don’t ask, was how she interpreted the look.
Jaudon patted the dog. “Has Kirby taken well to traveling?”
“My leetle coconut’s always ridden to work with me. She confided she’s thinking of buying me a Cadillac, Jaudo. Turns out she loves to travel, but thought the bus lacked the proper amenities for royalty like herself.” Cullie scratched Kirby’s back until the dog’s foot started thumping on its own.
“Who wants to buy you a Cadillac, Cullie?” Jaudon asked. The van was noisy.
Cullie grinned. “Why Kirby does. So I can chauffer her.”
“Oh, you’re such a joker. I believed you.”
Berry liked how soft-hearted Cullie was about animals, the way Jaudon was. She was attracted to Jaudon’s qualities in Cullie. Both hard workers, both tomboys, both strong and purposeful, they plucked at her heartstrings and lifted her spirits when she was with them.
“I’d like to have a dog at work,” said Jaudon. “Once upon a time they didn’t care if there was a dog on store property. All of a sudden one day the health department decided dogs are going to pee on the raisin bran or some darn thing.”
“Kirby is trained now. Allison insisted. She’s such a country girl dog, there was no need before. On the job, she stays in the company truck unless the customer falls in love with her, and a lot of them do. Kirby never barks, never soils the truck, hasn’t bitten any rich people—though I tell her to go ahead and do it.”
“Hey, maybe we could get Zefer to go after thieving kids at the store.” Her curiosity was getting the better of her. She was about to ask where Allison was when Berry’s eyes squinted at her in the mirror again. She shut up. So Cullie and Allison didn’t work out. No surprise there.
At Four Lakes Cullie climbed down, hugged them both, and went to her truck, patting it with fondness as she grinned their way. Her sister’s front yard was thick with ferns, and Cullie made her way through them toward a little yellow bungalow with Indian bedspreads for curtains. She turned and called, “Me and Kirby are Florida women. Make me recollect that if I’m ever of a mind to traipse across the country after a woman again.”
Chapter Twenty-five
“Are you embarrassed to be seen with me, Berry? If you are I’ll try to act different and use a razor on my face.” Jaudon’s voice came out flustered.
They were in bed, Toby on top of Berry’s legs, kneading a clump of sheet. It was a Tuesday morning, their one late day this week. “Why on earth?”
“Momma’s on a tear about it.”
“Stop that down there, angel.” Berry swatted at her hand. “I’m trying to think.”
“You are a most beautiful individual from head to toe, my Georgia peach.”
Would Momma ever stop tormenting Jaudon? Jaudon was hiding her face, her hands twisted tight together, but Berry saw it in her mind’s eye. Open, like Pops’s face, with his sturdy bones. She had no pictures of her own ma or pa. They all burned up in the sinkhole fire. Gran said she was a thorough mix of both parents, sugar and butter.
Now that Jaudon was grown, her long square jaw, full lower lip, and broad nose made her face interesting. With that always overgrown, seldom combed sandy hair and tanned skin, she could be one of the Beach Boys singers, surfing her days away. Instead, she was a woman who had to fit the mold if she wanted to get by in life, but Ber
ry accepted that Jaudon needed to go her own way. She caressed Jaudon’s cheek with her fingertips.
Berry silently pledged to do anything to protect her Jaudon from the schoolyard bullies who’d become her customers, business associates, employees, and from herself, because Jaudon continued to raise her fists as often as she joked her way out of belittling. She saw these so-called grownups bully in new ways and use Jaudon’s gender against her. Rigo talked about passing as a straight man; Jaudon refused to pass as a normal woman. As strong and testy as she was, she was more vulnerable than any male, straight or not.
Even the feminists asked about Jaudon. Was she really all woman? What did Berry see in her? It made her fly off the handle every blessed time, close to shrieking in an effort to make them understand their insensitivity and how they browbeat a different-looking woman and lesbians with their dismissive distrust. They reminded her of the schoolgirls she used to pal around with.
They complained about how their men treated them and how frustrating it was to make men see what oppression does to women. Little by little, the straight women seemed to accept that they treated lesbians the same way men treated women, but insisted they needed to hide the lesbians in the movement to be taken seriously. Nationally, they saw what was being called the second wave of feminism catching on. Friends sent them political tracts and newsletters from New York, San Francisco, and Washington, DC.
Donna Skaggs had quoted Betty Friedan who called lesbians in the women’s movement a lavender menace and a radical named Susan Brownmiller refuted that position, accusing Freidan of manufacturing a lavender herring.
Berry came home from their last meeting with stories to tell Jaudon.
“Lari sat the whole time with her eyes half closed, smiling her high-and-mighty smile, and pointed out that a huge percentage of the movement consists of what she called women loving women. Then Cullie added that she’d been in a gay women’s consciousness raising group out West. She dropped to her knees, hands folded in supplication, and begged for us to start one here.”