Dori shoved her hands through her hair in frustration.
“I don’t know. I could barely focus.”
“And you stated you didn’t know him.”
“I’d never seen him before. He didn’t fit. He didn’t belong.”
“What do you mean?” Lon asked.
“He was too old, way too old to still be in school. I told him I needed to go home. I was sick. I couldn’t think.”
“Sounds like someone slipped something in your drink,” Lon said.
She shrugged. “I didn’t see it happen, but I think so.”
“What else do you remember?” Lon asked.
Dori ducked her head. “I felt him pulling at my clothes. Then I passed out. I came to and saw his face above me and knew what he was doing, but I couldn’t move. I passed out again, and when I came to, he was gone.”
“Did you ever see him again?” Lon asked.
“Yes. I was about seven months pregnant and was walking out of the pharmacy when I saw him coming out of Granny’s restaurant across the street. I didn’t know the people he was with, but they were getting into more than one car. I heard one of them call him Frankie.”
“What did you do?”
“I got in the car and drove home as fast as I could go.”
“Why didn’t you tell someone?” Lon asked.
Dori shuddered. “Granddaddy would have killed him. I didn’t want him in jail, and I guess I was afraid the law would find the guy and I wouldn’t be able to prove anything. It was my word against his, and I felt like a fool, like it was somehow my fault.”
“I’m sorry that happened to you. I’m sorry you were afraid to tell, but I understand.”
“So what now?” Dori asked.
“I have your statement on video, and I have the written statement you gave me, as well. I understand why you felt the need for this to be on record, but without a last name, I doubt this investigation can go much farther.”
“I don’t want to find him. I’m doing this in case he comes looking for me,” Dori said.
“I understand,” Pittman said. “I can do some preliminary investigating and then bury the file. It will be there if the need arises.”
Dori sighed. “I’m not even going to ask if this is proper police procedure. I’m just grateful.”
Pittman stood up to leave and then stopped. “I’ve felt guilty ever since I was called away from the fire and found out no one helped you. I assumed the paramedics would see to you and the baby’s welfare.”
“They had already assessed us before Granddaddy died. We hadn’t suffered smoke inhalation and weren’t burned. They wouldn’t let me ride in the ambulance. No one could have predicted what happened that night, but I am forever grateful Johnny and his boys came to my rescue. Look how it all turned out.”
Pittman smiled. “I’d say Johnny’s pretty happy about it too.”
Dori nodded. “You should have seen the look on his face when he found out about the money.”
“It’s not a bad thing to hear,” Pittman said. “However, I’m very sorry you had to lose your grandfather to get it. You take care, and I’ll see myself out.”
Dori heard the front door open and close, and then he was gone. For better or worse, she’d done it. If the story came out later, then so what if it did? She refused to worry about it any longer. She went to get her phone to see who’d called, and when she saw it was Johnny, she sent him a text.
I talked to the police. The report has been filed. Making beef potpie for supper. I love you. Be safe.
She glanced at the clock. She’d missed lunch and started to ignore her hunger pangs, then changed her mind. Johnny had told her to quit skipping meals, and he was right. She had punished herself long enough for becoming a victim. She made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and poured a big glass of milk. Instead of eating it standing up, she sat down in Johnny’s recliner and turned on the television while she ate.
It was later that afternoon when Johnny saw the text. Satisfied all was well, he read it twice just to reread “I love you,” then loaded up the dozer and headed back to town.
* * *
Frankie Ricks was drinking beer in a bar in Savannah and waiting for a friend to show up. The television was on over the bar, and every now and then, he’d glance up, waiting for the weather report to see if it was a good day to go fishing. He had just signaled the bartender for a refill when a picture of a man and woman and three kids flashed on the screen. Beer slopped out of his glass as he recognized the girl, and when the story popped up on the crawl beneath the picture, he nearly fell off the stool.
Married
to
save
their
families
from
DFCS, groom discovers after the ceremony that he married an heiress.
Frankie slapped money on the bar and ran out the front door like the cops were coming in the back. All the way back to Oneida, his head was spinning, thinking up one scenario after another and trying to figure out how he could make this work to his advantage.
That little piece from Blessings wasn’t the first girl he’d doped up and fucked. The good part about Rohypnol was the amnesia that came with it. None of them ever remembered what had happened, let alone who’d done it, so he wasn’t worried about being accused of rape. He just needed a story that would tie him to her, so he could lay claim to the kid. He could claim a prior relationship with her and say they broke up without him knowing she was pregnant. He could claim seeing her picture in the paper was the first he knew she’d had a child—maybe point out the fact that, since she was a virgin when they’d had sex, by the baby’s age alone, he suspected the child was his. The DNA test would surely prove it. By the time he reached Oneida, he had the story well rehearsed.
He knew she’d claim she didn’t know him, but that was easy to explain. They had been sneaking around behind her grandfather’s back because of the age difference, and she just didn’t want to admit what she had done. It was a risky move, but Frankie Ricks was used to taking risks. What he needed now was a lawyer.
* * *
Pansy Jones saw the headlines and the wedding picture in her sister’s morning paper and her heart stopped. They had gotten married! She had not seen that coming, and the longer she looked at the picture, the more certain she was that she would never go home again. What she had to decide was if she was going to divorce Bart and stay here with her sister or call him and give him a chance to leave with her. Finally, it was the faint memory of her own wedding vows that decided for her.
She reached for her cell phone and called home, then waited for Bart to answer. When her call went to voice mail, she started talking.
“I saw the papers. I can never come back to Blessings again. I am staying in Savannah, with or without you. If you want a divorce, all I want are my things: clothes, my car, and Mama’s crystal, china, and silver. You can have all the rest.”
Then she hung up. She’d know by the end of the day whether she was going to be starting over alone or with the yoke back around her neck.
* * *
Two days later, Peanut Butterman hung up the phone and then sat for a moment, trying to think what to do first. He’d known from the moment that stock portfolio was discovered that something like this would happen, but he wasn’t sure how Dori was going to respond. The fact that a man was coming forth claiming a relationship with Dori that resulted in a child was somewhat daunting. She had a baby and had never named the father. The man already had a lawyer, and there was a hearing scheduled in Blessings day after tomorrow at ten a.m. to present the evidence. The so-called father was asking for joint custody and a suitable monetary sum to go with it. Dori was going to be upset. Johnny Pine would be out for blood.
Still, there was no way to ignore it.
* * *
Unaware of her lawyer’s phone call, Dori was in the middle of cleaning kitchen cabinets when there was a knock at the door. She wiped her hands on her jeans and went to answer.
The man standing on the porch had a disarming smile.
“Adorable Grant Pine?” he asked.
“Yes?”
He thrust a piece of paper forward and slapped it in her hand.
“You have just been served.”
He walked away as abruptly as he came, leaving her standing on the threshold in a state of shock.
She stepped back into the house to shut the door and then opened up the summons, quickly scanned the words, and then reread them again before it hit her.
She let out a scream of rage and headed for the phone. It rang before she could pick it up, and when she saw it was Butterman, she answered, screaming in his ear.
“The son of a bitch filed for joint custody of my baby. He wants child support and my baby for raping me? I will kill him first! I swear to God, I will kill him.”
Peanut blinked. He didn’t know she had this in her.
“Dori! Dori! Stop screaming and listen to me. There is a hearing day after tomorrow at ten a.m. I need you to come in sometime today so we can go over—”
“I filed a rape report with the police department two days ago. I don’t know if this is the same man, but I will recognize him if it is.”
Peanut was impressed. “You filed a rape report?”
“Yes. I know it was late, but Johnny said the statute of limitations was not up, and now that Granddaddy was no longer around to get in trouble, I did it to protect us from this very thing. Oh my God, I cannot believe he had the gall to pull this.”
Peanut’s thoughts were turning. “I am guessing he does not know about the report, which is good. You did the right thing. I am also guessing he’s going to claim a prior relationship and that he had no knowledge that you’d become pregnant during that time.”
“He was a stranger. He drugged my drink at a school dance, dragged me out of the gym into the dark, and raped me. I barely remember any of it except for seeing his face above me and knowing what he was doing, but I couldn’t move. It all felt like a bad dream until I found out I was pregnant. I filed a report. If it’s him, they have to arrest him, right?”
“Right now, without evidence to prove otherwise, it will be your word against his. If he is the father, Luther’s DNA will prove it.”
Dori screamed again.
Peanut flinched and held the phone away from his ear until she was through.
“I will get a copy of the police report and be in touch. Stay calm. We’ll figure this out.”
She was still shouting and stomping when he hung up the phone.
She tried to call Johnny, but he didn’t answer, then she remembered he was working on a job site not far from Savannah. He was too far away to come home and hold her hand. She was a big girl. She could handle this herself. In the meantime, telling him had to wait until he got home.
When the baby started crying, she groaned. All her screaming had been a mistake. She’d just gotten him down to sleep and now he was awake. She was just full of bad decisions.
* * *
Frankie got a call from his lawyer that everyone had been notified and served, then suggested Frankie get a motel in Blessings and set up his story. He needed to appear distraught about missing out on the first six months of his son’s life and seem anxious to form a relationship with him. He said it would be vital to swaying public opinion in his favor should this come to trial.
Frankie was somewhat nervous to show up there, but he’d cooked up the scheme and now had to follow through. So he packed up a suitcase and headed for Blessings. He got a room in a local motel and then headed straight for Granny’s Country Kitchen to get some food. It was just after one o’clock. The lunch crowd should just about be gone.
* * *
Dori was sick to her stomach. Yesterday’s elation was gone, and the reality of her life was back on the ugly side. As soon as she fed Luther his dinner and got him cleaned up, she headed uptown. She needed to get tampons at the pharmacy and pick up the birth control prescription her doctor had called in. She loved Luther Joe to the moon and back, but she didn’t want another one anytime soon. She and Johnny had all they could handle right now, and he didn’t even know it.
She buckled the baby in the car seat, poked his belly just to hear him giggle, and wished to God her granddaddy was still around to hear it too. Then she shrugged off the pity party and got into the car. She needed to get her errands done before it was time to pick up the boys.
Her first stop was Phillips’ Pharmacy. She walked in with Luther on her hip and headed toward the back to pick up her prescription. Four customers stopped her on the way—one to congratulate her on her wedding, one to fuss over the baby, and two wanting to borrow money. She gave the last two a long, silent stare. They got the message and left.
Mr. Phillips was on the phone when she walked up to the counter. He put the caller on hold.
“Afternoon, Dori. I have your prescription right here.”
“Thank you, Mr. Phillips. Have a nice day.”
“You too, honey,” he said as he waved and smiled.
He got back on the phone as she turned left at the next aisle to get tampons. LilyAnn was stocking shelves when Dori walked up.
“Hi, honey. Anything I can help you with?” LilyAnn asked.
“I need a large box of those,” she said, pointing to her brand.
LilyAnn grabbed it from the shelf.
“Are you ready to check out?” she asked.
“Yes, please,” Dori said.
“Follow me.”
Dori handed her the prescription and headed toward the front. Still holding Luther by one arm, she sat him down on the counter to dig through her purse for her wallet.
She paid for her stuff while Luther was trying to put her hair in his mouth and LilyAnn was rattling on about her baby on the way. Dori had no idea what LilyAnn was saying and hoped that she’d smiled in all the right places.
When LilyAnn began sacking up her purchases, Dori absently glanced out the window and across the street toward Granny’s Kitchen and, as she did, had a horrifying moment of déjà vu.
The man who’d raped her was walking out of the café.
“No,” she muttered. Then her voice got louder. “Hell no,” she said and set the baby in LilyAnn’s arms. “Hold him for me, please.” She ran for the exit.