by Terri Lee
Neenie was breading chicken at the counter. Phil sat at the kitchen table, nursing a beer and a sullen expression, looking like he was the one that had just been in a fight. His head in one palm, he looked up at her.
“I don’t even know what to say.”
“I don’t either,” she said.
“What possessed you, Child?” Neenie asked.
“Possessed might be a good word.”
She sat with her hands in her lap, unable to believe one of them had slapped the snot out of Birdie Westfall. She had never in her entire life been in a fight. It would’ve never crossed her mind to strike another woman. It was so far from who she was.
Then again, she’d almost slapped Price the night of the murder. Maybe she had something horrid and hateful living deep down inside her.
“I’ve never done anything like that,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Phil nodded.
“I know it was wrong. But I’ll tell you this, it felt kind of good.”
Savannah saw Neenie’s eyebrows shoot up, as she dredged the chicken in a pan of flour and seasonings.
“Well, I’m glad your inner rebel is finding a cause,” Phil said. “But now’s really not the time to realize you’re James Dean.”
“Birdie Westfall deserved a slap across the face. I should’ve done it years ago.”
“Savannah, you can’t be going around doing things like this.”
“I don’t intend to,” she said. “It wasn’t planned. I went in the auditorium to see my son get his award. I was lying low, minding my own business, not drawing attention to myself. She provoked me. She was the one with the agenda.”
They sat in silence, contemplating the tentacles that would reach out from this incident. Phil was picking at the label on his beer bottle, tossing the tiny shreds on the table. When the bottle was bare, he looked over at her.
“So what’s the issue between you and this Bird character?”
Savannah had to grin. “Birdie. And it goes way back. High School. Talk about someone holding a grudge.”
“That girl never was any good,” Neenie said. “Never will be. Her entire family’s been trouble since day one.”
“Even at our high school reunion last year, she was still acting as if I’d stolen her student parking place,” Savannah said. “Twenty years. Can you imagine?”
“I don’t know. What did you do to her?” Phil asked.
“Do? I didn’t do anything,” she said. “Well...I once dated a boy she had a crush on.”
“Ah. I should’ve known it would be about a boy.”
“Isn’t it always?” Savannah shrugged. “Birdie and I weren’t exactly friends. We didn’t run in the same circle.” She pulled at the old memory. “But apparently, she talked herself into believing I deliberately set out to flirt with Bobby James after they’d been on a date. In her mind, I stole him out from under her. Although it was more likely she was under him.”
Neenie laughed out loud. “Child, you’re full of piss and vinegar today.”
“It’s more than anything I did in high school. The real issue is my father sent her brother to prison for armed robbery.”
“Ah.” Phil nodded slowly.
“So you can imagine her delight seeing the tables turned.”
“Regardless of whether the bird needed a slap or not—”
Savannah held up her hand. “I know. I know. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gone to the school. But I just wanted to be there for PJ’s special moment. Wanted to pretend things were normal. I was a normal mom, watching her son receive a prize. PJ deserved it. Can you understand that?”
Phil’s face softened. “Sure I can.”
“By the way, why were you there?” Savannah asked.
“To save you from yourself.”
“Gee thanks, Superman. No, really?”
“Neenie told me where you’d gone and for some reason I got a funny feeling about it.”
“My lawyer, the psychic.” She studied him, looking for answers that lived behind the guarded eyes. “Anyway, I’m glad you were there.”
Phil rolled his eyes. “So am I.”
IT WAS hard for Savannah to say goodbye, but Angela couldn’t get out of the door fast enough. She fled the house as if walking out the prison gates on parole. She threw her bags into the back of her grandparents’ Oldsmobile, slammed the car door, and buried her face in a magazine. Gone, before she even left the driveway.
PJ hugged his mother. “Are you sure you’ll be okay here by yourself? Who’s going to take care of you?”
Savannah smiled as she ran a hand through sandy hair. “I’m not alone, honey. I have Neenie. And Grandma and Grandpa.”
“I still think I should stay.” He leaned in close, whispering. “I don’t really want to spend the summer with her.” He jerked his head in the direction of the car.
“You’ll have the summer at the beach. It’ll be great.”
PJ’s frown opened a window to her past and a stale breeze swept over her. She’d despised being talked to like that when she was young. Patted on the head and told everything was fine, when she knew damn well it wasn’t.
She was honest with PJ after the altercation with Birdie, apologizing the minute he arrived home from school.
It was bad enough he marched off to school every day to fight the dragons, face down the snickers and sneers without Savannah further embarrassing him.
Yet PJ smiled for her, said it was nothing. He understood she’d cracked under pressure. He told her to stop apologizing and even made a joke about her right hook.
She gave him honesty, he gave her forgiveness. Two things sorely lacking in her marriage but still salvageable with her son.
Now Savannah took PJ by the hand, leading him away from the car for a private conversation.
“Look Peege. You’re not a kid. You know what’s going on here. I’m in serious trouble.”
His hazel eyes looked into hers, tugging at her heart. “I know, that’s why I should be here.”
“You can’t be here. I want you away from this city, the news reports, the gossip, and especially the trial. Even if it means away from me.”
“But—”
“Plus I have to use every ounce of energy and attention as we gear up for court. Can you understand, honey?”
“I guess so.” He hung his head and Savannah cupped his chin with her hand.
“You’re my hero, you know that? And I know Angela is a pill right now, but she needs you, too.”
The hero straightened his shoulders, rising to the task before him. Yes, he would be miserable at first, but maybe brother and sister could find their way back to one another on the beaches of Clearwater. Away from the drama. Away from her.
She watched him standing there drawing strength from some unknown reservoir and she took some of it for herself. A flurry of hugs and kisses, then he walked away, wiping his eyes, but his back was straight and strong. She followed him to the car, then handed him over to Ken and Doris.
Seeing Price’s parents was awkward to say the least. No one seemed to know what to do with their hands. Hug, or not hug? Kiss or not kiss? Eye contact seemed difficult and Savannah felt the weight of their discomfort settle on her. Still, she had to give them credit. She had no idea how she’d react if she were face to face with the person charged with murdering her child.
The small talk in the driveway was filled with sideways glances and stiff silences. Silently ticking off the minutes until they’d spent an acceptable amount of time visiting. Then it was time to hit the road. Lots of traffic expected, after all, they ought to get an early start.
PJ put his hand out the car window and Savannah clung to his fingers until the car pulled away. She kept waving until she was sure the car was out of sight, then collapsed to her knees on the driveway. Sobbing, for all the neighbors to see.
She didn’t care.
She needed her children here with her. Needed to see them, h
old them, make sure they were safe. She peeked into their bedrooms at night, long after they’d fallen asleep. It was the only time she could touch Angela, stroke her hair, and watch her breathe. Her face free of the hate that gripped her during the day. Over and over Savannah would whisper, I love you, hoping the words would seep into Angela’s dreams.
Florida seemed so far away. Her arms couldn’t reach that far.
Neenie bent down and lifted her up from her underarms. “Come inside, Baby Girl.”
“They’re gone,” Savannah sobbed.
“I know, honey. I know.”
She leaned on Neenie’s arm as she was led into the house, her legs unwilling to do their part.
“If I’m found guilty—”
“Hush, child. None of that.”
“If I’m found guilty, it’s the last time I’ll have hugged my children as a free woman.”
“That’s not gonna happen.”
But what if? What if?
Wandering around the house, that night, the walls closed in on her like a tomb, the silence reproving her at every turn. Finally, Neenie put her to bed. She was exhausted, yet sleep eluded her. Like a five-year-old, she kept her hands and feet tucked under the sheets, safe from monsters under her bed. They were there. She could feel their hot breath, inches away, ready to pounce.
GUILT snarled she was going to jail and INSANITY howled she’d be committed. One way or another, her children would be taken from her.
“I BROUGHT TEA and toast, baby.” Neenie pushed open the bedroom door and bustled in with a tray. “I heard you thrashing around in here. Thought a little chamomile tea might do the trick.”
“I need something stronger than chamomile tea.” Savannah regretted throwing out all of her sleeping pills. She longed for that sweet and gentle fog to envelope her. When the alcohol and the pills wrapped around one another like lovers and swept her away to that magical place where nothing existed.
She fluffed her pillows and sat up straight, taking the plate of buttered toast in her lap. She chewed mindlessly, eyes fixed on a spot at the end of her bed. Neenie hummed as she went around the room, picking up clothes from the floor. If Savannah closed her eyes, she might convince herself it was any old June night. She wanted to keep her eyes closed. Shut it all out and live behind her eyes.
“You need a little something on your tummy. I worry about you.”
Savannah opened her eyes and looked at her dearest friend. Poor Neenie. She was too old to be run through this wringer. The last few months had slapped everyone around.
“I worry about you,” Savannah said.
“Me? Look at me, you can tell I ain’t missed any meals.”
“Come sit with me.” Savannah patted the bed. “It’s been a long day.”
“Yes, it has.”
“It’s been a long haul. I’m so sorry for everything, Neenie.” The tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. She seemed to always be blinking back tears, her eyelashes perpetually wet.
“Baby, you don’t need to apologize to me for anything.” Neenie gathered her up in her arms. They sat there for a few minutes, Neenie gently rocking back and forth, Savannah crying softly on her shoulder.
“You’ve always been so good to me. Why?”
“From the first moment they handed you into my arms and I looked down at that little pink face, I loved you like you was my own daughter. If it just wasn’t for that yellow hair.”
Savannah laughed through the tears and pulled Neenie’s brown hand to her heart. “You know I’d never be able to make it without you.”
“Of course you could. You’re the strongest thing I ever saw. I don’t know why you think otherwise. Besides, I’m not going nowhere. And neither are you.”
“We’ll see,” Savannah whispered.
“I’ve always been proud of you. Never more than now, watching you fight your way through this mess.”
“I’m so tired of fighting, Neenie.” Savannah scooted down in the bed, her head falling on the pillow. “Tell me a story. Tell me something about you that I don’t know.”
“There ain’t nothing worth telling about me.”
“Who were you before you came to me?”
“I hardly remember.” Neenie tucked the sheet up under Savannah’s arms “Just a young woman scratching out a living.”
“Were you someone else’s nanny?”
“For a short time. I was also a cook. A housemaid. Whatever work I could find.”
“Why didn’t you ever marry?”
“Wasn’t no man ever interested in marrying old Neenie. Besides I was too busy taking care of you. Still am.”
“I hope that’s not true. If it is, I’m sorry.”
“Oh Lord, baby, you take everything to heart lately. You know I’m just teasing.”
Whatever dreams Neenie might have had, Savannah knew they were put on hold when she was placed as a baby in Neenie’s arms. A temporary assignment turned into a lifetime commitment. The two of them went together like tea and toast. Where Savannah went, Neenie followed, accompanying her Baby Girl from childhood to marriage to motherhood. Instead of babies of her own, Neenie cradled Savannah’s children, staying long after Angela and PJ had outgrown a nanny.
Now Savannah looked at her friend, silver hairs woven among the dark brown curls, and she couldn’t help feeling she’d stolen Neenie’s life.
“Where you ever in love?” she asked.
The question was tossed out on the end of a fishing line. The hook caught on a faded memory and Savannah watched Neenie reel it in, the corners of her mouth softening as it got closer.
“I thought I was. Once.”
“What happened?”
“I never really gave him a chance. I think I was afraid.”
“Because of your momma’s mistake?”
“I suppose.”
Savannah knew well how the sins of one generation became tattooed onto the next. Bad choices rippling down through the decades, affecting grandchildren yet to be born.
“Turns out that was a good thing. Like most men he was just playing.” Neenie sat up straight, shoving colored feelings to the back of the bus. But Savannah caught a glimpse of something. A flash before Neenie closed the door.
“Did he break your heart?”
“Maybe just a little. Just enough for me to know I had one.”
Neenie’s hand ran through Savannah’s hair, picking it up and letting it fall. Savannah remembered so many long nights when Neenie sat on the end of her bed, stroking her hair, soothing away bad dreams. Chasing the monsters out from under the bed.
“I’m sorry you didn’t get your happily ever after, either,” Savannah sighed. She could feel sleep creeping up behind her eye lids.
“Ain’t no such thing, honey.” Neenie kissed her goodnight.
PHIL WAS back in full swing. Papers, forms, and files, neatly labeled, color-coded, and stacked across the desk. Whenever Savannah walked by the office, he was either on the phone, with his assistant, Cecil, or banging away on the typewriter.
“We have a lot of work ahead of us,” he said.
Savannah liked the action around her. It felt like things were being accomplished. She liked the flurry of other people coming and going, as well. Runners from the attorney’s office downtown, couriering papers back and forth. Without a license to practice law in the state of Georgia, Phil was required to be attached to a local office.
“Pro hac vice,” he told Savannah.
“Pro what?”
“It’s Latin. It means ‘for this occasion.’ Basically I’m allowed to participate on this particular case, with the understanding that all paperwork presented to the court will be signed by local counsel.”
The thought snuck up and tapped her on the shoulder. I missed him.
The D.A.’s office sent boxes of files from Price’s office. Phil pored through them, grabbing at far-flung clues, pulling them together, trying to create a cohesive picture. He never stopped looking for the thing. The one thing that
world open the door to the answer they were looking for. Savannah couldn’t think what that one thing was. She just hoped Phil recognized it when he saw it.
“What’s on today’s agenda?” Savannah said.
“If we’re in agreement, we have to line up appointments with the psychiatrist.” Phil looked at her over his glasses.
He seemed all business today. No friendly banter, no in-depth conversation. Likely braced for her to unravel and slam the door in his face again.
“Okay.” She deliberately kept her answer short, her voice even.
“Kip assured me you were on board.”
“I am.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do I really have a choice?”
“You have a choice whether or not to trust me.” He took off his glasses. She stared back, falling into a blue sea where the waters were calm and the last of her indecision slipped away.
“I have to trust you,” she said. “And my brother and Daddy. It’s your job to protect me from myself.” She tried to smile but it was weak.
“We’re not pleading insanity. But when the D.A. tells his version of the story, the fact you don’t remember anything sounds pretty unbelievable.”
“I know.”
“It’s my job to maintain your credibility throughout the trial. If I’m shooting down all the D.A.’s theories, I have to use real ammunition. If there’s a legitimate excuse for the memory loss, then we need to give it to the jurors. They need it.”
“I understand. I’m on board.”
“Only if you’re sure.” His tone was like a door being held open. He wasn’t luring or coercing her inside. She had to step across the threshold herself.
“I’m good.”
“All right. I have the motions ready to file. The D.A. will be notified of our intent. You should know you’ll have appointments with the doctor we choose, as well as one for the State.”
“Kip explained it all to me. But I assume our doctor will testify in my favor and their doctor will say the opposite. Where does that leave us?”