A Rainbow Above Us

by Sharon Sala

  “Oh my word…I didn’t know I could still laugh. That was the best medicine ever,” she said, and then burst into tears and started apologizing.

  Bowie handed her a pack of tissues from the console.

  “Honey, don’t apologize. I grew up with three women. There’s little I haven’t already seen or heard about.” Then he grinned. “I can’t believe you got Gran to play strip poker.”

  “It was Ella’s suggestion, and then she kept losing. Pearl is the one who made me laugh, though. I guess she figured if she shed her drawers, she could still maintain her dignity…unlike Ella, who just peeled stuff off as she went.”

  Now Bowie was chuckling, imagining Gran getting up and taking off her panties.

  “What did she do with them?” he asked.

  “She heard you drive up and sat on them,” Rowan said. “That’s when I burst out laughing.”

  That image was too priceless to ignore. Bowie laughed all the way to the Piggly Wiggly.

  Right before they got out, Bowie paused. “I don’t know what’s on the list, but if you have things you need that you might be embarrassed about, I can easily wait up front and just pay when you’re finished.”

  Rowan shrugged. “Mama died when I was ten. Daddy raised me. He’s the one who told me about the birds and the bees and all the girl stuff. I’m used to shopping for all that with a man, so I’m fine if you are.”

  “Then we’re good,” Bowie said. “Remember…three women and me.”

  Rowan grinned. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?” she said, and jumped out. He got out and followed her into the store, trying not to think about what it would be like to be part of her world.

  Chapter 4

  Bowie grabbed the shopping cart. “You have the list, so I’ll just follow you.”

  Rowan nodded, then looked up at him with such delight. “I haven’t done this since before the storm.”

  “You mean, buy groceries?” Bowie asked as she started down the produce aisle.

  “No, just being out in the world doing normal stuff. It is an empowering feeling not to feel helpless anymore. Pearl offering me a home again was huge, but the chance of it being fixed was slim to none, so all three of us were in a kind of limbo, you know?”

  “I can only imagine,” he said, absently watching the way her hands moved over the apples, then the pears, as if there were an inner radar to choosing the right ones. Then he cued back in to the fact she was still talking.

  “Then you showed up, and the promise of a home became a fact. You are a wonderful grandson to do this,” she said, then pointed to a display of peaches. “Oh, look. Nothing better than Georgia peaches. Do you like cobblers?” she asked.

  “Do dogs have fleas? Yes, ma’am, I like cobblers.”

  Rowan grinned. “They aren’t on the list, but I’d make a cobbler for dinner one night, if you have bakeware for that.”

  Bowie grabbed a plastic bag from the dispenser and opened it. “I have bakeware I’ve never used. How many peaches do you need?”

  She picked one up and lifted it to her nose. “Umm, just smell that. You can always tell when peaches are going to taste good by the way they smell. The peachier the smell, the sweeter the peach.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Bowie said.

  Rowan nodded. “Stick with me, dude. I know all kinds of useless information. You might not be able to use it to build one of your big, fancy houses, but next time you’ll know what kind of peaches make the best pies.”

  Bowie was in trouble, and he knew it. She was oblivious to her beauty and uninhibited to a fault. Enchanting? Yes, that was the word. A dark-eyed enchantress who was tempting him with peaches, like Eve tempted Adam with that apple.

  He shook off the thought and tried to focus on the task at hand. “How many peaches do you need to make a cobbler?”

  “Mmmm, about ten of those, I think, and pick the ones that are verging on overripe because—”

  He interrupted. “Let me guess. Because they cook up better than the ones that are still firm?”

  She looked up, then grinned. “Don’t give me that poker-face look. You’re a ringer, aren’t you? You already knew all this stuff, and you’re just letting me rattle. That’s okay. At least now I know not to play cards with you.”

  “Not even strip poker?” he asked.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Do you have oatmeal in your pantry?”

  He blinked. That conversation had ended abruptly. Maybe it was something he said.

  “No, should I?”

  “Your gran loves her breakfast oatmeal.”

  He stopped, thinking back to the years of growing up in that house, and suddenly remembered. “With raisins cooked in it, right?”

  “That’s what she asked for every morning at the nursing home.”

  “Then we not only need oatmeal, but we need to get raisins, too,” Bowie said.

  “Okay, then we go this way,” Rowan said, and took off down an aisle, leaving him to follow her with the cart.

  She shopped. Bowie tried to follow but was stopped often by people he barely remembered but who had known his mother and had watched him grow up. He’d forgotten how swiftly news traveled in small towns, especially when the news was bad. They had already heard about his run-ins with the Boones, expressed their dismay that the incidents had happened, and praised him for coming to fix his grandma’s home.

  Finally, Rowan slipped the cart out of his hands and took off down another aisle, leaving him caught between the cereal aisle and a woman he’d gone to school with. At the point she pulled out her phone and started showing him pictures of her kids, he made the appropriate comments and excused himself to go look for Rowan.

  When he found her in the dairy section at the back of the store, he walked up behind her and tugged on the back of her hair.

  “Don’t ever do that again,” he muttered.

  She turned around, and she was grinning. “Do what?”

  “You know,” Bowie said.

  “They’re your friends, Bowie. They’re glad to see you, so be nice.”

  He sighed. “You’re right. I guess I’ve been alone too long, and it sure beats the welcome I got from the Boones. So what are we buying here?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just looking, trying to remember what was in your refrigerator.”

  “About half a quart of milk with a week-old expiration date, some longnecks, and the usual condiments. I know I’m out of eggs. Not much cheese, if any, and no lunch meat. And no meat. But I don’t expect you guys to cook meals for me. Just buy what you like to feed yourselves, and when I’m home in time, we can always go to Granny’s.”

  “Don’t take away Ella and Pearl’s right to baby their boy,” she said. “I’ve never seen them so happy.”

  Bowie frowned. “I didn’t think about that.”

  Rowan patted his arm. “Don’t feel bad. You wouldn’t be expected to. Most women like to do things for the people they love. It’s part of who we are. In their eyes, you have saved them from a fate worse than death. You are the hero putting their world back together. Let them cook for you.”

  “How did you get so wise?” he asked.

  Her dark eyes filled with tears. “It’s the way of a woman to know things…and I remember the special things I used to do for Dad.”

  Bowie saw the tears. The brief elation she’d experienced was gone. The girl he’d first met was back. The quiet one with the sad eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Rowan nodded. “Me, too.”

  There was an uneasy moment of silence, and then she chose a couple of items from the dairy case. Bowie added three quarts of different flavors of ice cream, and then they moved to the meat department.

  “We need a couple pounds of hamburger meat for sure, and then you choose the meat you like, and we’ll cook it.”

>   Bowie started putting in packages of chicken pieces, pork chops, steaks, and sausage.

  Rowan eyed the assortment, remembered the large two-drawer freezer at the bottom of his refrigerator, and decided there was room for all that and more. At that point, the shopping was finished in relative silence.

  They were on their way across the parking lot when a car pulled up behind them, then honked.

  Bowie glanced over his shoulder. “Damn it,” he muttered, and pushed the cart aside, hoping the driver would pass.

  But she didn’t. She put the car in Park and got out.

  Bowie remembered her as really pretty, but the years of being married to Judson Boone appeared to have been hard on Cora. Her hair was gray and thinning, and the world-weary look in her eyes told the rest.

  “Mrs. Boone,” Bowie said.

  Cora walked to the front of her car, then stopped. She opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. She had to take a breath and start over before words would come out.

  “Bowie James?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “They said you looked like my Jud, but I didn’t believe it. And yet here you stand, looking at me like the ghost of the man I married—not the way he is now. I need to apologize for so much. Will you allow me that much?”

  “I’m listening,” he said.

  Cora was shaking. She needed to get this said before she passed out.

  “Back when that terrible thing happened to your mother, I saw her poor face and the wounds on her body when she was still in the hospital. I went home and asked Randall if it was true. Did he really hurt her like that? He swore on his deathbed that it was a lie. I told myself Randall wouldn’t lie to me.” A single tear rolled down her cheek. “But now I know he did, and he went to his death with that lie on his conscience. You can’t wear that face and not be my grandson, which leads me to what I have yet to process. I can’t wrap my head around what Judson and my sons did to you. You were just a boy, innocent of the hate between both families. They all knew the truth about your mama and still did that, didn’t they?”

  Bowie felt sorry for her. “I can’t speak for them or what they were thinking, other than knowing they hated me for being born and wanted me gone.”

  Rowan walked up behind him, then held out her hand. Bowie dropped the keys in her palm and relinquished the cart, leaving her to get the groceries loaded.

  Cora couldn’t quit staring. “They said you came back to fix up Pearl’s house.”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’s true.”

  Cora looked at the red Cherokee a few yards away, wincing when she saw the huge gouges in the paint and metal.

  “I don’t believe it’s right for people to get away with crimes they commit. My grandson should have known better. And I know why Jud’s sitting in jail and won’t argue with that, either. But I can promise you now, at this moment, neither me nor mine will bother you again.”

  The relief of hearing that was huge. He’d been concerned on the girls’ behalf, afraid they’d wind up in the middle of some confrontation.

  “I thank you for that,” Bowie said.

  Cora was struggling not to cry. “You’re all I have left of Randall, and I don’t even know who you are. That’s the worst crime of all. Denying blood kin. God forgive me for being so blind.”

  Then she ducked her head and got back into the car.

  Bowie saw her wiping tears, and then she put the car in gear and drove away.

  “Damn,” he muttered, and turned around. Rowan was already in the Jeep.

  He loped across the parking lot and jumped inside, grateful that she’d started the car, because it was already cool.

  “Sorry I didn’t help you load,” he said.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  He nodded, then put the car in gear and took off. He was all the way down Main and getting ready to take the turn to the trailer park before he spoke.

  “If she can keep them under her thumb, she promised none of them would be bothering me again.”

  Rowan tried to read his face, but couldn’t. “That’s good news for you.”

  Bowie thought about that a moment and then nodded. “You’re right. That is good. Good news, indeed.”

  Rowan leaned back against the seat, letting the cool air blast her in the face. He was a complicated man with a very kind heart.

  When Bowie pulled up to the motor home again and killed the engine, he handed her the keys.“If you’ll unlock the door, I’ll carry in the groceries.”

  “Deal,” she said, and hopped out, while he went to the back seat and began grabbing sacks.

  He walked in carrying two handfuls of sacks, set them down on the counter, and then jogged back out to get the rest. The girls were already putting things away when he set the last sacks down.

  “Are you guys good to go for a while?” he asked.

  “Yes, we’re not only fine, we’re wonderful. You’re wonderful,” Pearl said.

  Bowie smiled. “Thanks, Gran. I’m going to go back to the house and help with demo. I’ll be home around five thirty or six, okay?”

  They nodded.

  He watched Rowan making herself scarce and said nothing. She’d gone back into her shell again.

  “Aunt Ella, I’ll get you a new phone tomorrow. You guys rest, watch TV, whatever you want to do, and if you play any more strip poker, make sure the blinds are down.”

  They were still giggling as he walked out the door.

  The heat was already bearing down, and it wasn’t yet noon. Bowie stopped at a bait and beer shack to pick up some ice for the cooler in the back of the Cherokee, along with some cartons of bottled water. As soon as he had some of the bottles iced down, he shut the hatch and jumped back inside, anxious to get to the jobsite.

  He kept thinking about the changes Gran wanted done to the house and was reminding himself of all the details that would need to be addressed to rearrange the layout.

  Bowie rarely took renovation jobs. Nearly all of them were new builds, but this was different. This was home, and the fact that they were tearing out what had been familiar was something he would have to face.

  He parked at the curb, grabbed a mask and his work gloves, and took the cooler to beside the house, leaving it in the shade beneath a tree.

  Joe and Ray were carrying out a moldy mattress from one of the bedrooms as Bowie masked up again. One glance at the debris piling up in the big bin, and he could already see how hard they’d been working.

  The brothers had walked back up onto the porch as he was about to go inside.

  “Did you get your family settled?” Ray asked.

  Bowie nodded. “They’re a little more than I expected. One extra woman, not related, and pretty to boot. I walked in on the three of them playing strip poker. It was a sight to behold.”

  They burst out laughing, just as Samuel came out carrying an armful of moldy bath towels.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked.

  “They’re just laughing at a joke on me,” Bowie said as he was pulling on his gloves. “I’m going in.”

  He stepped across the threshold, then stopped in his tracks. The front room was empty of furniture. Even the mud-stained and moldy drapes had been pulled down. He’d never seen the room bare. Three generations of furniture and the energy of the people who’d lived here were gone.

  “It’s a mess, Boss,” Ray said.

  Bowie shuddered. That was an understatement. The pain of loss was brief but sharp, and then they moved on through the house.

  Gran’s room had already been emptied, and they were all working on Ella’s room when he walked in. Matt and Presley were taking down a bed so they could get it through the door and up the hall, and Samuel was pulling a dresser away from the wall. Bowie grabbed one end of the dresser and Samuel the other. And so it began.

  * * *r />
  Lon Pittman was talking to Avery, his dispatcher, when Cora Boone walked into the station. She didn’t look any better than Lon felt about having her husband and grandson in jail.

  “Mrs. Boone.”

  Cora nodded. “Chief Pittman. Might I have a word with you?”

  “Absolutely, ma’am. Avery, no calls.”

  The dispatcher gave him a thumbs-up.

  “This way,” Lon said, and escorted her down the hall and into his office.

  After he seated her, she leaned back in the chair and momentarily closed her eyes.

  Lon feared she was about to pass out and quickly offered a drink. “May I offer you a cup of coffee…or maybe water?”

  “No, sir, but I thank you for the offer,” Cora said.

  As Lon sat down, he noticed Cora’s shaky fingers curling around the arms, as if needing the familiar to anchor herself in the chair, and then she looked up.

  “Chief Pittman, I thank you for seeing me on short notice. I didn’t know how these things work regarding prisoners and visitors, but I want you to know that I am humiliated by what my family has done to Bowie James. I have spoken to Bowie and assured him that there will be no more trouble from the Boones, leaving him free to do what he came to do…to put Pearl’s house back in order.”

  “That’s good news,” Lon said.

  “I also want to know when Jud and Junior will be available for bail.”

  “Court is in session at two this afternoon, so they’ll be arraigned then, and charges, if any, will be filed.”

  Cora took a tissue out of her pocket and mopped the sweat beads on her upper lip.

  “If that offer of water is still good, I think I’ll take it.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lon said. He jumped up and got a cold bottle of water from the mini-fridge behind his desk, and then got a little red plastic cup from the stack on top of the fridge and filled it with cold water.

  “Thank you,” Cora said, and took several sips before setting it aside. “Okay, so the judge will set bail?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And when we post bail, they will be released to come home?”