Black Beans & Vice

by J. B. Stanley

  To the left of Murphy’s article on Ned Woodman’s criminal acts was a shorter piece covering his memorial service. A large photo of Donna Woodman served as a divider between the two stories and James found himself repeatedly returning his gaze to the black and white shot. Ned’s widow was an athletic blond. Her sleeveless black tank dress showed off muscular arms and a stomach as flat as an ironing board. It was difficult to see her face as the photograph was a profile shot and Donna’s eyes were obscured by a pair of enormous sunglasses. It was her lips, set in a thin line of grief, and the way she clutched a single rose, that made the photo leap from the page. The emotion depicted in those clenched hands looked like something Jackson would have captured in one of his paintings.

  “Poor woman,” James murmured and passed the paper to Jane. “I wish this stuff about Ned had come out after the funeral. At least Donna Woodman could have buried her husband without the press circling the cemetery like a bunch of hungry hawks.”

  Jane studied the photograph and made a sympathetic noise. “Can you imagine how she feels? She must doubt every moment she shared with that man,―wondering if she ever really knew him. Why did he take the money? Did he have an addiction? A mistress? A desperate friend in need?” She shook her head. “His secrets will taint all of her good memories. She won’t truly be able to grieve until she knows the truth.”

  James tapped the photo. “Judging from this shot I’d say she’s definitely begun the grieving process.”

  “That’s not grief, it’s anger,” Jane answered with certainty. “Look at her mouth, her hands. This woman is filled with rage and has no way to let it out. The source of her anger is dead, and yet, she’s got to stand at the edge of his grave and be composed in front of the cameras, when what she’d like to do is jump up and down on his coffin and scream at him.” Seeing James’ stunned expression, Jane gave a self-effacing shrug. “Maybe I’m reading too much into the photo, but that’s how it strikes me.”

  “Let me look at that again.” Scooting his chair closer to hers, James inhaled the clean scents of Jane’s aloe body lotion and eucalyptus shampoo. As she leaned over to pour him more coffee, he caught a trace of lilac perfume and smiled.

  His mother had also loved lilacs and he’d always associated the aroma with her warm embraces, easy laughter, and goodnight kisses. He thought of all the evenings she’d snuggled with him on his twin bed, reading him story after story until he finally fell asleep. Every night of his boyhood, he’d drifted off to tales of bravery and adventure, dark plots and ruthless villains, enchantment and beauty. James’ mother had gifted him with his love of books. It was a gift he wanted to pass on to his own son and he was glad to know that Jane had been reading to Eliot since he was an infant.

  “What are you thinking about?” Jane asked, nudging him with her elbow. “You’ve got on a very dreamy expression.”

  James gazed at his ex-wife, at how pretty she looked in her denim skirt and white blouse, her hair tucked into a headband and her face free of makeup. Had she known that lilac was his mother’s trademark scent? Was she wearing it deliberately, to more easily earn his trust and affection? James folded The Star in half with a snap.

  No, he thought. Jane doesn’t need to manipulate me. She has her own money, a successful career, a supportive circle of family and friends. I’ve seen the way men look at her, too. Jane could have her pick of several male colleagues. It’s not like she’s desperate to find a man. Stop second-guessing her, his inner voice scolded.

  “I was remembering how my mom loved the smell of lilacs,” he replied to Jane after a long pause. “Your perfume reminds me of her. Actually, you remind me of her more and more now that we’re spending so much time together.”

  “What a lovely compliment!” Jane squeezed his hand gratefully. “Your mother was an incredible woman. Kind, generous, funny … and boy, did she know her way around the kitchen! You’re never going to find her equal in me when it comes to cooking. You know that, right?” She pretended to look alarmed. “You’re not expecting me to start making soufflés and coq au vin, are you?”

  “Forget haute cuisine, my dear. I’m very interested in your other assets,” he searched for her lips with his own.

  All too soon, Eliot’s voice interrupted their kiss. “Are you two going to make a baby?”

  Jane let her arms slide from James’ shoulders, but she let her hand linger on his. She laughed. “Where’d you get that idea?”

  “Lesley-Anne says that when a grown-up boy and a grown-up girl kiss, they make a baby.” Eliot was clearly pleased to be able to share this bit of knowledge with his parents.

  James cocked his head. “What else does Lesley-Anne say?”

  Eliot focused on pouring himself a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios before answering. “She says that the lady gets really fat and then the stork picks up the baby from the lady and brings it to the daddy. The baby cries a lot because it has bad dreams about storks until it can talk. Then it’s not scared anymore.” When Jane rose to pour milk on Eliot’s cereal, he put his arms around her neck. “Did I have bad dreams about storks?”

  The mention of birds put a damper on Jane’s lightheartedness. “No, darling. But your friend, Lesley-Anne, sounds like quite an imaginative little girl.”

  Unsure of whether his friend had just been praised or slighted, Eliot shrugged. “She can be mean sometimes. She said Fay Sunray is for babies, but I don’t care. Fay’s pretty and I like her songs.”

  James carried his breakfast dishes to the sink. Jane wiped off the counter and whispered to him over the sound of the running water. “Lesley-Anne is going to be that kid. You know, the one who spoils the idea of the Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny, and Santa Claus for the rest of them. Mark my words!”

  “Sad. Some mysteries were never meant be solved—the locations of the North Pole or the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, for example,” James said wistfully. “And then there are the ones we’d love to unravel, like the reason Murphy Alistair moved back to Quincy’s Gap, what prompted the vandalism cases against you, or what Ned did with the stolen money. Those might elude us forever.”

  Jane paused in the act of loading the dishwasher. “Oh, you and your supper club will decipher all three of those riddles before the Fourth of July. I’m certain of that.” Wiping her hands on a tea towel, she glanced around the tidy kitchen. “Now let’s get going. If we miss the Firefighters’ Parade Eliot’s going to ask Miss Know-It-All Lesley-Anne how a kid can be granted a legal dispensation to live with his grandparents!”

  ______

  Hours later, the Henry family were worn out from a memorable day of sunshine, music, and entertainment. At the annual Shenandoah Apple Blossom Festival, they’d listened to live bluegrass music, heard the energetic strains of marching bands, and watched a parade of fire department vehicles and floats bearing the Apple Blossom queen and her court. While Jane took Eliot to get a closer look at one of the rescue vehicles, James bought her an apple blossom necklace made of sterling silver from one of the many local craftsmen. After they’d dined on a meal of grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches he slipped it around her neck.

  “Oh, it’s beautiful!” Jane exclaimed with delight. Observing her radiant face, James realized that he’d never surprised her with unexpected gifts when they were married. He couldn’t even remember if he’d ever bought her a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolates during their time together. Watching her examine how the necklace lay on the soft skin where her collarbones met using the compact from her purse, James made a silent vow to be more spontaneous with his displays of affection in the future.

  After their picnic lunch, the Henrys lost a handful of dollar bills playing games on the midway, rode a few of the tamer carnival rides, and then wove through the festival crowd toward the parking lot, content but thoroughly weary. Eliot was dragging his feet by the time they reached the outer rim of the festival and James knelt down so the boy could climb on his back for the remainder of the trek. Eliot immediately placed
his cheek against his father’s shoulder, sighed with contentment, and closed his eyes.

  As they passed several vendors selling funnel cakes, soft-serve ice cream, and hot dogs, James heard the sounds of raised voices ahead. Pausing, he listened to the shrill shouts and frowned. “It’s those protestors again. The ones from the food festival last weekend. I recognize the shrieks of their ringleader.”

  “We’ll just walk past them as quickly as we can,” Jane calmly responded.

  Despite the increased noise level, Eliot didn’t so much as lift his head, and when James spied the latest series of graphic posters held by the demonstrators, he sincerely hoped his son would keep his eyes shut until they were safely away.

  Unfortunately, the Henry family had chosen the worst moment to leave. The group’s zealous leader, the young woman with the spiked hair and the rows of hoop earrings, nearly collided with James and she stepped forward to hurl a cute plush pig at the hog dog vendor.

  “BRUTE!” she screamed at the middle-aged man in the green apron as James leapt backward. “You’re serving people ground-up pig! You’re making money from bits and parts of an intelligent animal!”

  The vendor stared at the place where the plush pig had landed and so did his line of customers. The man was obviously startled and a little intimidated by the group of protestors.

  Seeking a quick escape, James tried to skirt around those waiting for food and the encroaching throng of demonstrators, but the crowd bunched together, effectively cutting off any chance of him finding a way through. James felt sorry for the hot dog vendor, for the young leader’s eyes blazed with a righteous fury as she directed one of her companions to toss another pig at his booth. However, James’ main concern was for his family’s welfare and the possibility of violence erupting seemed high. He looked around for help, but everyone seemed frozen by the unfolding scene.

  “You’re contributing to the MURDER of the INNOCENT!” The spiky-haired leader yelled and then pointed at the stunned customers. “And YOU people! You’re about to pay four dollars for a bunch of pulverized brains, bone, intestines, skin, and pink dye stuffed into a casing of edible plastic! How can you put that stuff into your body? Become a vegetarian! Save animals from being bred to become your food! Preserve your body from disgusting, ground-up refuse like this man’s hot dogs!”

  One of the male protestors handed her a sign. “Tia! Now!”

  Together, Tia and her friend unrolled a large banner. Several members of the shell-shocked crowd gasped in horror. Under the text, MEAT IS MURDER! were two pictures. The first showed a pig being shot in the head with some kind of gun and the second showed his body hovering over a stainless steel trough as blood poured from the slit in the creature’s throat.

  “This is how it happens, Carnivores! The pig is stunned by a bolt pistol. Not killed, stunned! It’s alive when its throat is cut! ALIVE!” She pointed at a man in the crowd. “Just like your best-buddy, Fido, and your darling kitty, Snowball,” she said as she directed her index finger at a woman wearing a T-shirt reading, “Beware: Crazy Cat Lady.”

  A small girl in the funnel cake line began to cry. She was quickly joined by the sobs of several other children.

  A frightened and angry mother stepped out of the line. “Shame on you! Showin’ stuff like this to a bunch of little kids!” The woman tried to tear the banner from Tia’s hands and when that failed, she pushed by the other demonstrators with a snarl, her two tearful children in tow.

  Her chastisement suddenly animated the crowd and the surge of hostility on both sides swelled. Peering over Jane’s shoulder, James saw a group of grim-faced security guards and burly firefighters moving in their direction.

  “Help is on the way,” he told her with relief as Eliot stirred on his back.

  Tia saw the cavalry coming as well. She whispered something to the man holding the other end of the banner and then glanced briefly in James’ direction. Her expression abruptly changed. In one moment, the young woman’s face had been aglow with passion and determination. Now her jaw was slack and her eyes wide with fear. Dropping her end of the banner, she turned and ran off.

  With their leader gone, the rest of the demonstrators rapidly dispersed and by the time the first security guard arrived, the commotion was over.

  “Guess Tia didn’t want to tangle with those firemen,” Jane said as she pulled James to the far left, finally getting away from the excitement by using the volunteer’s entrance gate as an exit. “Can’t say I blame her. They don’t look too happy. Did you happen to notice that the hot dog vendor is wearing a Volunteer Firefighter T-shirt under his apron?”

  James hadn’t, but didn’t want to linger another second. Eliot woke up for a few brief seconds while being strapped into his car seat, but the moment James started the engine and eased out of the parking lot the fatigued little boy fell right back to sleep.

  “You know, I agree with the protestors about the majority of their platform,” Jane whispered once they’d reached the highway. “But they go too far.”

  “In these days of media sensationalism, they probably believe that that’s the only way they can gain attention,” James said. “Believe me, I think it’s awful to expose folks to some of those posters, but at the same time, I admire their passion. They weren’t out there today or last week for personal gain, but to help creatures that have no voice. I respect them for that.” He slowed down as the Bronco hugged a sharp curve in the road. “Perhaps there’s another, less offensive method to get their point across.”

  Jane raised her eyebrows. “I recognize that look. You’re hatching a plan.”

  He laughed. “Oh, I was just thinking that the new owner of The Shenandoah Star Ledger might enjoy interviewing Tia. If I mention what happened today, Murphy will be here before the sun goes down, sniffing the ground for traces of the Apple Blossom conflict.”

  “I can see the headline now: ‘Firemen and Fugitives’.” Jane chuckled. “Still, an article would grant the activists the exposure they need.” She reached over and squeezed James’ arm. “You’re a good man, Professor Henry.”

  “And you are the smartest, best-looking woman to have ever graced that passenger seat.”

  Jane ran her fingertips up his bicep and over the ridge of his shoulder so she could caress the nape of his neck. He sighed in contentment as she worked the kinks from his muscles.

  “Despite the theatrics back there, today was perfect,” she said. “It was one of those days I wish I could pack away in a box—save it like a treasure and then take it out again whenever I needed cheering.” She blushed. “Boy, am I a sap or what?”

  “You don’t sound like a sap, but a woman who knows exactly what she wants,” James replied.

  “That’s true,” Jane said with a smile. “And what makes me happiest in the world is right here in this dear old truck. My two Henry men. What more could a girl ask for?”

  An answer surfaced in James’ mind and he was shocked to suddenly visualize an item that he never thought he’d think of in connection to his ex-wife ever again. But here he was, glancing at her left hand and wondering if the “more” Jane might secretly desire was a wedding ring.

  _____

  Jane and Eliot left for their house in Harrisonburg after church on Sunday. Mother and son wanted to plant a small vegetable garden and surprise James with their efforts the following weekend.

  “I’ll see you on Saturday unless you need me to drive up during the week again?” James asked suggestively as he kissed Jane goodbye.

  “Oh, I will definitely need you,” she answered with a playful wink.

  After Jane’s car had disappeared from sight, James checked his watch. If he drove hastily, he could reach his father’s place in time for Milla’s Sunday brunch. She often issued spontaneous invitations to her acquaintances from the First Baptist Church and prepared extra dishes ahead of time in the event her friends accepted. Luckily for James, the Methodist service ended thirty minutes before Milla’s church let out so he stood a
fair chance of pulling into the driveway as his stepmother was serving up hot food.

  As the Bronco maneuvered the winding roads leading to his boyhood home, James visualized frying pans filled with bacon and sausage, a tray covered by buttery biscuits, and a platter of Milla’s plump cinnamon buns, warm from the oven and covered with drizzles of sweet, buttery icing.

  “Uh oh,” he spoke to his reflection in the rearview mirror. “With Jane sleeping over, I forgot to listen to my reinforcement CD. I’ve missed two nights in a row! No wonder I feel the old cravings coming to life.” He parked the truck next to Milla’s lavender minivan, relieved that he’d be the only guest. “It’s a good thing I’m seeing Harmony for another session tomorrow.”

  The renovated kitchen in his former home was filled with delicious aromas. Milla was just pulling a coffee cake from the oven when James tapped on the back door and let himself in.

  “Oh! I am so glad you showed up!” Milla placed the cake on the stovetop and gave James a hug. The warmth from her oven mitts seeped through his shirt, sending a soothing feeling across the width of his back. “I asked Willow to join us this morning, but she couldn’t make it. She and Francis are off to catch a matinee—some killer robot movie Francis has been waiting to see for months.”

  “Looks like you cooked enough to fill them to the point of exploding!” James exclaimed, eying a platter of crisp bacon and sausage links. “But I’d be delighted to eat Willow’s share. In fact, I came over hoping you’d want to feed me.”

  Milla beamed. “Nothin’ would please me more. And you know I have to make piles of bacon for your daddy. That man loves his meat!” She sprinkled pepper over a frying pan filled with scrambled eggs and gestured at the coffeemaker. “That’s a fresh pot. Get yourself a cup and tell me how my grandson is doin’ with his new diet.”