Fly Like a Bird

by Jana Zinser

  Bertha was right. Her father had died chasing the bus, trying to get his wife back. Ivy placed the file back in the cabinet and started to shut the drawer when she saw a file marked “Mildred Thrasher.” She pulled it out and opened it. The sheriff’s report simply stated, “Death due to drowning. Case closed.” But behind the report was Dr. Kelsey’s coroner’s report. She scanned the document quickly. “The body suffered a contusion to the head but the cause of death was drowning,” she read on the final page.

  Footsteps sounded outside and Ivy put the report in the drawer and closed it. She adjusted Carly on her hip and hurried out of the sheriff’s office with the confirmation that the lake had killed Conrad Thrasher’s wife. But how did she get there?

  Chapter 30

  PATTY’S DAY OUT

  Grandma and Uncle Walter would arrive later, but Ivy decided to get to the church early for Maggie’s funeral, so she could make sure they set it up the right way. She wanted Maggie’s funeral to be a perfect final tribute to her best friend, who forced her acceptance on the Mulberry Street residents.

  The sun sank low in the Iowa sky and dusk began to settle gently on the horizon. When Ivy drove up to the church, she saw Charlie sitting in his car at the far end of the front parking lot.

  Ivy drove to the small parking lot behind the church by the alley. She wanted to slip in the side door and avoid any trouble in case Miles showed up. Carrying Carly and the diaper bag, she hurried up the path to the church, avoiding the muddy puddles from the recent rain.

  A twig snapped on the ground behind her. Ivy startled and turned toward the sound. Miles jumped out from behind the corner of the church and pressed a gun to Ivy’s head. “Give me that baby. I told you I’d come to get what belongs to me.”

  Ivy could feel the cold barrel of the gun against her temple. The pressure made her stitches throb. A cold wind of fear turned her mind into a kaleidoscope of thoughts tumbling over each other. But there was only one possible answer. After all, she had promised Maggie. “No, Miles. I can’t do that.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, Ivy saw Reuben slowly driving his truck down the church alley toward them. Ivy could see Patty—too large to fit comfortably in the cab of the truck—sitting in the back of the pickup eating a hamburger. She wore her long pink nightgown under an old blue sweater. Buckshot’s tongue hung out as he circled Patty in the back.

  Ivy hoped that they would notice that she was in trouble, but Reuben turned into the parking lot.

  Miles grabbed Ivy’s hair. “Give me that baby.”

  “No.”

  A tractor loudly sputtered and popped as it turned down the alley. The noise drowned out Ivy’s words. Howard Decker in a sleeveless white T-shirt, shorts, and his Kansas City Chiefs ball cap, erratically drove the fogger, spewing thick gray smoke down the alley behind the church. A blanket of smelly fog enveloped them. Ivy could barely breathe and the baby coughed between her cries.

  Suddenly, a whizzing object cut through the smoky air. The Frisbee hit Miles in the back. Buckshot howled his “oh, no” and chasing the Frisbee at full speed but unable to see his target, slammed into Miles. The dog’s impact knocked Miles to the ground and the gun flew from his hand, skimming along the ground. Buckshot lay beside Miles, stunned from the impact.

  Howard Decker, driving in a drunken stupor, adjusted his Kansas City Chiefs hat and drove the fogger past the church, oblivious to the unfolding danger.

  Ivy breathed bug spray as she ran through the hazy fog with the crying baby bouncing in her arms.

  Miles scrambled up. His dreadlocks bounced like the legs of a spider as he ran after Ivy and Carly.

  From the back of the truck in the parking lot, Patty saw Miles chasing Ivy and Carly. The ground still swirled in a smoky bug spray haze and he slipped on a muddy patch and stumbled around to the front of the church. Patty scooted off the truck bed and ran toward Miles like a slow-motion replay. Buckshot joined the chase. When Patty reached Miles, she pulled him down like he was a calf at ear-tagging time. Miles hit the ground unaware of what struck him. Buckshot barked and growled.

  When the pesticide-fog lifted, Patty sat on top of Miles, flattening him like a rolled-up newspaper on an annoying bug.

  Ivy and the baby, along with Reuben rushed to Patty who adjusted her weight and breathed heavily from her short run. “This ought to hold him.”

  Miles struggled underneath Patty, who smiled in victory. Reuben put his hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Now that’s the gal I know.” He turned to Ivy. “You guys all right?”

  Ivy hugged Reuben. “Yeah.”

  Reuben gestured, demonstrating the Frisbee’s path. “Did you see my Frisbee?”

  Ivy nodded. “Yeah. Perfect aim or what?” She kneeled down and patted Buckshot. The dog sniffed Carly and nudged her little hand with his muddy nose.

  Reacting slowly to the bodies tumbling out of the bug fog, Charlie Carter, the big-bellied deputy sheriff, waddled out of his car and strutted across the church lawn to the man squirming under the massive weight of Patty. He ran his fingers through his silver streak, now a wide strip extending almost to the back of his head. “I reckon I’ll take over from here.” He rested his hands on his belt, spread his feet apart, and bent down to look at Miles. “Is this the murdering malcontent?” Ivy nodded. Miles’s green eyes were bloodshot and puffy as he glared at Charlie through his dreadlocks.

  Many of the funeral-goers gathered around Patty. The growing crowd stared at the trapped man. Luther Matthews, the tool-belted handyman, stepped to the front of the crowd. “I’m here to help,” he said. Luther looked at the hammer tattoo on Miles’s forearm and tapped his own hammer in the palm of his hand. “I’d like you to meet my hammer, Old Dan Tucker.”

  Miles stared at Luther, whose hair stood on end like a salute to wild unruliness. Luther’s face was covered in weeks-old stubble and grease stains streaked his shirt. Miles blinked his bloodshot eyes as if trying to focus.

  “What is this place, ‘Deliverance’ or something?”

  Ivy ignored Miles. “Thanks, Luther, but I think Patty’s got it under control.”

  Patty shifted her weight and Miles coughed as he tried to catch his breath. Carly stopped crying and watched the strange sight, her little tongue darting in and out of her mouth. Ivy glanced toward the road in front of the church. Conrad Thrasher watched the commotion from his big white car idling in the street. His face lay partly in shadow, but she could see him smile as he pulled at his bushy eyebrows.

  The church door opened and Virgil Jackson and Max Black emerged. Max’s large frame filled up the doorway. He wore his dark blue gas station uniform with the flying red horse on the sleeve because he came directly from work for the funeral. Virgil wrinkled up his nose. “Smells like the damn fogger’s been by.”

  Max pointed to the crowd gathered around the squished intruder whose arms and legs stuck out beneath the beefy form of Patty Smith. “That ain’t all that’s been by.”

  Miss Shirley marched up the sidewalk toward Max and Virgil. “Is that the good-for-nothing Miles Jones?”

  Virgil held his black hat in his hand. “Maybe what’s left of him.” He opened the heavy wooden door of the church and called inside. “Hey, Otis, hurry up and get out here. Miles showed up and Patty Smith’s got him dead to rights.”

  Virgil adjusted his hat on his head. Otis hurried out of the church and stared at the strange scene. “Don’t let the murderer go!” Otis yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth.

  Max’s dipped his chin down to his chest. “It don’t look to me like that cat can even breathe.” Max ran his hand over his shiny bald head. “He ain’t going nowhere.”

  Otis looked at Virgil and Max. “What’s Patty Smith doing out of the house?”

  Max shrugged his massive shoulders. The flying red horse on his sleeve seemed to leap into the air.

  Virgil took a deep breath and shook his head. “Wished we’d been here earlier.”

  They all hurried over to where Miles was
sprawled on the church lawn. Miss Shirley put her hands on her big hips. “Well, Lord. I can’t wait to hear how this happened. Nice to see you, Patty. If you need a break, let me know. I can take over for a while.”

  Patty wiped the sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of her tattered blue sweater. “Thanks, Miss Shirley, but this is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

  Miles looked up at the faces staring down at him. “My brothers and sisters, don’t you care about the fact that that she stole my daughter?”

  “She saved that child’s life,” Miss Shirley said. She pointed across the road. “Look, Sheriff, a jay-walker.” Charlie looked up to where she pointed as Miss Shirley kicked Miles in the side.

  Miles glared up at Miss Shirley. “Ow. Why are you protecting her? She’s a white girl.”

  “You killed our girl,” Miss Shirley hissed through clenched teeth. “You ain’t taking another one of ours, black or white.”

  Miles spat on the ground near Max’s huge feet. “Your man needs to teach you a lesson.”

  Max took a step forward and twisted the wet spot with his work boot, grinding Mile’s spit into the ground. He glared down at the flattened man. “I’m trying to restrain myself here, but you better shut your mouth, my brother, or you won’t be talking out of it again.”

  Otis bent down to look Miles in the eyes. “Why’d you do it? Why’d you kill my daughter?”

  “She had it coming, old man. It’s a new generation. Black men are due some respect.”

  Otis jumped down on the man squirming beneath Patty’s bulk and put his hands around Miles’s neck.

  Charlie stepped forward. “That’s enough, Otis. I got this.”

  Max and Virgil pulled Otis away.

  Miss Shirley stepped closer to Miles. “Are you saying it was her duty as a black woman to take a beating because you’re a new generation brother?” She tilted her head to the side as she spoke.

  Buckshot growled. “Do not go down that road if you want to go on living,” Max warned Miles.

  Miss Shirley pulled her leg back for another kick. “I’ll give your narrow behind a little respect myself.” But before Miss Shirley could kick the downed man again, the dog got there first. Buckshot gripped Miles’s leg, biting and snarling until Reuben pulled him off.

  Charlie pulled out the handcuffs wedged in his back pocket. “All right. We’ve had enough fun. Release him, Patty. It’s time to handcuff the disruptive element.”

  Patty awkwardly rolled off the murderer. Charlie shoved his knee in Miles’s back, handcuffed him, and jerked him to a standing position. It took four men to haul Patty to her feet. When she was upright, Ivy hugged Patty tightly. “You saved Carly.”

  Patty held the baby’s hand and breathed heavily. “No one should mess with a child. They’re too hard to come by.” She kissed the top of Carly’s soft curls.

  “You a good woman, Patty Smith,” Miss Shirley said.

  “Okay, show’s over.” Charlie waved for the small crowd to move into the church for the service. He leaned in and whispered to Miles. “Looks like your luck finally ran out when you came up against the deputy sheriff of McKinley County.”

  Miles glassy eyes squinted, and a shadow crossed his face. “You had nothing to do with it, Skunkhead. That stink bomb blinded me and then a ton of fatback fell on top of me.”

  “Shut up!” Reuben and Charlie shouted at the same time.

  “I’m hauling you down to jail,” said Charlie, pushing Miles toward his vehicle. “You’re going to enjoy our fine accommodations. The rest of you need to come down to the station and give me your statements after the funeral.”

  The crowd dispersed and headed into the church. Rueben shook Otis’ hand. “Came to pay our respects but looks like we need to head home now to clean up.”

  “We’re awfully grateful to you and Patty,” Otis said.

  Conrad Thrasher’s car still idled in the road. He shook his head and drove off.

  Reuben put his arm around Patty. Her long, pink flannel nightgown hung muddied and ripped beneath her stretched-out sweater. Buckshot circled them with the Frisbee in his mouth, ready for another romp. They headed back to the pickup. Reuben would have something to talk about down at the Blue Moon that night.

  Max turned to Ivy and offered her his muscled arm. “Let’s go.”

  Ivy nodded as the smell of the fogger spray dissipated and she could breathe easily again. She took his arm and held the baby close to her.

  Max escorted Ivy and Carly to the top of the church steps. At the entrance, Virgil held the heavy church door open for Ivy and tipped his hat. “You go right in, Doll Baby. You go right in.”

  Ivy’s eyes filled with tears, but she managed to whisper, “Thank you.” If only Maggie were here to see the longed-for moment when she had officially become a “Doll Baby.”

  Ivy hesitated for a moment as her eyes adjusted to the sanctuary’s darkness. Organ music filled the church with the tune of “Amazing Grace.” Carly scrunched up her face and tears fell from her brown eyes as if she understood the sadness of the day.

  Uncertain about where she should sit, Ivy held the little girl as she entered the space filled with mourners. People turned and watched Ivy and the baby as they made their way down the aisle. Ivy saw Jesse and Raven sitting in the back. Seeing them together was still painful. Ivy searched for a seat away from them.

  At the front of the church, Otis rose from his pew. He clapped his hands in a slow, rhythmic beat. The sound echoed off the church’s ceiling. Then Pinky stood up beside him and applauded as well.

  Across the crowded church, people rose to their feet as Ivy walked down the aisle with Carly in her arms and Max guiding her. The congregation joined the applause until it sounded like thunder coming from heaven during an Iowa rainstorm. For once, Ivy welcomed the rain as tears fell down her cheeks. She cried for the loss of Maggie, but also for the grateful support of the people she shared her life with, the people of Coffey, and the people of Mulberry Street who had reluctantly learned to love her.

  The sounds of sorrowful weeping filled the little church as sadness whispered down the aisles and flew through the church rafters. Maggie was gone and life had changed.

  Ivy later found out that while the pallbearers escorted Margaret Louise Norton to her grave on the third hill at the Weeping Willow Cemetery, a strange coalition had formed down at the jail. After Charlie went home from his shift and another deputy took over at the jail, Conrad Thrasher brought Miles Jones a tenderloin and fries from the Coffey Shop.

  At the funeral reception at the Nortons’ house on Mulberry Street, Ivy hugged Otis and Pinky. Miss Shirley wrapped up a slice of her special Angel Pie to take home to Grandma who had gone home early.

  “Death can drain your spirit,” Grandma had explained before she left.

  That night, Miles slipped out of jail. Miss Shirley told Ivy she overheard a conversation at the Coffey Shop about how Miles had escaped when his cell was left unlocked after Conrad brought him his supper and the deputy received an anonymous call about teenagers drag racing on old Highway 69, which turned out to be a ruse.

  Ivy wondered if Miles had fled out of town on foot or if he had help from a big white whale of a car, but she figured either way, he was back with the Alliance in Kansas City and in hiding again.

  PART V

  THE GREAT HEREAFTER

  (1984-1985)

  Chapter 31

  PREPARING FOR DEATH

  Iowa’s rich, dark soil offered a fertile land with plentiful crops stretching for acres in its glorious abundant growth. The small farming community of Coffey grew accustomed to the cycle of growth and harvest, death and rebirth. Yet every change required adjustments. As the fall ended, the dead leaves tumbled along the sidewalk. The Iowa weather could change suddenly.

  Twenty-six-year-old Ivy hurried across the Warner College campus where she worked as the assistant director of the college alumni office. The college students strolled back from their classes with ba
ckpacks slung across their shoulders, oblivious to the blustery weather. But Ivy looked at the sky and sensed a change in the autumn wind.

  Although Grandma denied it, and Uncle Walter refused to talk about it, Ivy knew Grandma’s cancer had returned. Its unrelenting persistence had come to claim her. There was a translucence to her skin and she had become thinner. The fire in her eyes had dimmed. Ivy knew fate had allowed Grandma to raise her, but Grandma’s time was running out. The cancer now sought its revenge for death’s delay and Violet Taylor could no longer put up a fight.

  The shocking news tumbled along with the strong prairie winds and Ivy listened to the wild birds chattering to each other, all a-twitter as she crossed the campus to go pick up four-year-old Carly from Patty’s house. She figured the birds were spreading the news from Coffey that Violet Taylor was preparing for death.

  Only two months after Maggie’s murder, Pinky had unexpectedly died of heart failure. Ivy suspected her grief over Maggie’s death and her guilt for not protecting her only child had sent her to an early grave. Ivy understood that sometimes life’s devastation could be unbearable. Sometimes a heart can only take so much.

  Uncle Walter, Otis, and Patty took turns babysitting Carly while Ivy was at work. When Ivy arrived to pick up Carly from Patty’s that day, she noticed the child’s cheeks were slightly red as if wind-burned. Ivy raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Patty, have you guys been outside today?”

  “Yeah, we played in the back.”

  Carly nodded and smiled. “Played house in the barn and climbed on the roof like a squirrel.”