Authors: Mike Jastrzebski
They were ten minutes late. Roy climbed out first, and when he opened the passenger door Jessica’s father, Ben, followed. Ben wore black slacks and shirt along with his clerical collar and I couldn’t remember if that was how he’d dressed the last time I met him. At some point Jessica joined him, but my attention was on the woman Roy was helping out of the car.
Tiny and fragile looking, she had short thin white hair and carried an oversized black purse that looked almost like a suitcase in her small hands. Her navy skirt hung down to her ankles. A white blouse, and a dark blue sweater that didn’t quite match the color of her skirt hung on her as if she’d lost a good deal of weight. It reminded me that Jessica had told me she’d been ill.
Roy took her arm and led her over to me while Jessica and her father joined us. I thought I read the same apprehension in my grandmother’s eyes that I felt. As I steeled myself for my first contact with my grandmother, I wondered if she had the same fears I had.
She halted before me, released Roy’s arm, and held out her hand. “Hello, Wes. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
As I took her hand I almost laughed at the formality of her greeting. I hesitated, then dropped her hand and gave her a gentle hug.
She looked up and I saw tears in her eyes. I smiled down at her, and she threw her arms around my waist, clutching me to her.
“I’m so sorry Wes. So very sorry.”
She smelled of lilacs and mothballs, and her tears left a damp circle on my shirt. “It’s all right,” I said. I tried to take a small step away from her but she tightened her grip and let out a large sob. It was as if she feared I’d disappear like a wisp of smoke.
“It’s not all right.” She let me go, sniffed, and pulled away from me. Her pale blue eyes were filled with tears that flowed down her cheeks, cutting tiny rivulets into her makeup. She reached into the pocket of her sweater, took out a tissue, and blew her nose before letting loose an endearing smile.
“I should have stood up to your mother when she suggested it would be best for you,” she said.
“It’s all right,” I repeated. “My mother can be a very convincing woman.” If anyone knew that to be true, it was me.
My grandmother put her hands on her hips and glared at me. “Do you think if you say that enough you’ll make it okay?” she asked. “I’d like to apologize in my own way if you don’t mind.”
I liked her feisty attitude. “That’s fine with me,” I said. Tucking her arm in mine she let me lead her up the stairs and it wasn’t until we were entering the restaurant that I remembered the manuscript.
I handed her off to Roy. “I’ve got to run back to the boat for a minute. Why don’t y’all sit down and I’ll be right back.”
My grandmother laughed and nudged Jessica. “I do believe Wes’s southern roots are starting to show,” she said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“She means you’re already y’alling people,” Ben said. “It’s a sure sign you’re from down here, or that you’ve been here too long.”
I’d been so wrapped up in meeting my grandmother I’d forgotten he was there. I nodded at him and smiled at her. “That may be, but if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
Turning, I sprinted down the steps and had started off toward the boat at a fast walk when Jessica called out from behind me. “Wait up, Wes.”
I slowed and gave her a chance to catch up with me before resuming my trek down the dock. “What’s on your mind,” I asked.
“I just wanted to let you know that Uncle Roy and I decided not to tell Gran what happened with Rusty and Fish. She’ll be eighty-one in May and she’s on heart medication.”
“I don’t have a problem with that. What are we going to tell her?”
“Just that you went to see the lawyer, Sam Quinlin, and that he admitted to taking it. You talked him into giving it back.”
“Think she’ll buy that story?” I asked.
“I don’t see why not,” Jessica said.
We had reached the boat and when I started to climb aboard Jessica grabbed my shirt sleeve and pulled me around to face her.
“There’s something else we need to talk about,” she said.
“What’s that?”
Jessica shuffled back and forth on her feet and looked out across the river, avoiding my eyes. “I really like you, Wes.”
I groaned inwardly and took a step back. “Look, Jessica, I can’t go there.”
She shifted her gaze to my face and I thought I caught a flash of anger in her eyes. “Do you really think I’m just some dumb hick?”
“No. I understand things are different around here.”
She moved in close to me and I could feel her hot breath on my face. “You’re either stupid or an asshole, Wes Darling. I’ve just been funnin’ with you.”
“So you’re not interested.” I said.
She got a funny look on her face, and then she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me. Before I could respond she let go of me and pulled away.
Her eyes sparkled and she smiled. “Oh, I’m interested, Darling. Did you know that in Alabama first cousins can even get married?”
I opened my mouth but before I could find the words to respond Jessica reached out and pressed a hand to my lips. “Don’t worry, though, I know I’m too young to get married.”
Again I was speechless as Jessica spun around and started walking away from me. She stopped when she was about ten feet away and looked back at me. She grinned, a grin that would have done the Cheshire cat proud.
“What I really came down here to tell you, Darling, is that I’m not your cousin. Daddy adopted me when I was two.”
With that final barb Jessica took off running down the dock, leaving me standing there with my mouth hanging open. I almost took off after her, but then I remembered the manuscript.
As I opened up the boat and retrieved the manuscript, I realized that I still had a lot to learn about this new family of mine.
When I stepped back outside I was surprised to find Jessica standing on the pier, leaning against the piling.
Apparently, she was done teasing me. She stretched her arms over her head. “It’s so damn beautiful down here on the river,” she said. “Do you know how lucky you are?”
“It’s why I live on a boat. I can’t afford a house or condo on the water. Besides, I like the people I meet living this way. Come on. Let’s get this book back to grandmother.”
She moved up next to me, tucked her arm in mine, and we strolled arm in arm back to the restaurant. She was quiet until we reached the stairs, then she let go of my arm and looked at me.
“Thanks,” she said.
“For what?”
“For getting the manuscript back. For agreeing to meet with Gran. Just for being a part of my life for the past week. It’s been nice getting to know you.”
It was hard to believe it had only been a week. I felt like I’d known her a lot longer.
“I’ve enjoyed it too,” I said
We joined my grandmother, Roy, and Ben at a table overlooking the river. The three of them were having a heated conversation when we walked up and she didn’t seem surprised when I set the wrapped manuscript in front of her.
“I was just explaining to mama how you talked that lawyer into giving the book back to you,” Roy said.
“And I was explaining right back to Roy what a basket of manure that story is. I’m old, and maybe a little decrepit, but I’m not senile. I read the papers and I watch television.” She lowered her voice to a whisper and stared me in the eyes. “Now tell me the truth Wes. Did you kill that young man?”
“What young man?” I asked.
“That lawyer. Sam Quinlin. I read in the paper how he’d been shot in his office. Police thought it might be a burglary. Now they’re trying to tell me you got the book back from him.”
“No ma’am,” I said. “I didn’t kill anyone. I wouldn’t have done that to get the book back.”
“Good.” She pushed the manuscript over to the side of the table as if it was unimportant. “So, why don’t we order some dinner? It’s on me today.”
“You believe me?”
She reached across the table and patted my hand. “Of course I do.”
“Don’t you want to know what really happened?” I asked.
She looked up at the ceiling, pretended to study the tiles and said, “No. It’s obvious the four of you have decided that I shouldn’t know, so we’ll let it go at that. Now let’s order, I’m hungry.”
***
The sky was charcoal gray, the air smelled of an approaching storm, and the temperature was falling as a cold front made its way into the area. Standing in the parking lot, watching my newfound family drive away, was a surreal experience. It felt as if I was awakening from a dream.
The most surprising thing to me was the disappointment I felt with their departure. As I turned back toward the docks, I realized that the urge to get into the boat and move on to another location was not quite as strong as it had been just a few days earlier. And I had to admit, the excitement of chasing down the manuscript had been invigorating.
I was grateful that the ordeal with the manuscript was over. Warm feelings toward Jessica washed over me and for the first time I wasn’t afraid about what I felt. Life is grand, I thought, and then I turned the corner of the dock house and Rusty Dawson limped out of the shadows.
Chapter 25
Rusty’s sudden appearance brought me to a stop. His jeans were torn, his sweatshirt stained and several sizes too large. The muscles around his eyes and mouth sagged. His hair was uncombed and large dark circles rimmed his eyes. He appeared to have aged twenty years.
I back peddled, but before I could turn and run he held up his right hand and showed me the gun.
“I wouldn’t,” he said. His voice was thick and raspy and he let out a harsh cough. Turning his head to the side he spit into the river. “Where’s the book?”
I thought about my frail grandmother who had carefully tucked the book into her purse before leaving the restaurant. I saw the desperate look in Rusty’s eyes, took in the way his hand twitched as he held the gun on me, and I said, “I gave it to Roy.”
His brow furrowed and he sucked in his lower lip. Extending his arm, Rusty took two steps toward me and pushed the barrel of the gun against my chest.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Where?”
“To see your uncle, boy. Where else? I want my book back.”
“I don’t know where he lives,” I said.
“That’s too bad.” He pushed the barrel a little deeper into my chest. “In that case I don’t need you hanging around, do I? I might as well kill you here and go see your grandmother. Or perhaps I’ll have a talk with your pretty cousin, Jessica. I’m sure that with a little persuasion one of them will tell me where Roy lives.”
“And if I take you there, you’ll kill both of us.”
“You’d better believe someone’s going to die tonight. I got me no reason to be nice. It can be you and Roy. It can be your grandmother and Jessica. I don’t really give a damn. I want the book back, and I don’t want anyone to know I’m alive. If you can get me the book without Roy knowing about me, maybe you’re the only one who’ll have to die.”
I considered the situation, and then gave a brief nod. “I’ll take you to him, but I don’t have a car.” I was hoping I hadn’t just set Roy up for death. I hoped that between now and when we got to his place I’d come up with a plan.
Rusty eased the gun from my chest. “Let’s go. I’ve got a car. And no games, I meant what I said about the women. At this point I don’t really care who dies.”
As I turned and headed out to the parking lot, I thought about my predicament. There was clearly a tone of despair in Rusty’s voice, and I had no reason to believe he wasn’t serious with his threats.
“Not so fast,” he said.
I slowed my pace. In the quiet of the night I could hear him making little whimpering noises and muttering beneath his breath. I wondered if his ordeal hadn’t pushed him over the line that separates sanity from insanity.
When we reached the car, Rusty opened the driver’s side door and said, “Get in. Put both hands on the wheel and don’t move.”
I complied and he opened the rear door. The car rocked and he let out a loud groan as he got situated directly behind me. I looked at him in the mirror. Anger glowed in his eyes and I got the feeling that he would love nothing more than to shoot me.
“You’re hurt,” I said.
“No shit. You stuck a shiv in my leg and then left me to drown in the middle of Mobile Bay. Under the circumstances, I’d say I’m not doing too badly.”
“I looked for you out there. I couldn’t find you.”
“Close the door and drive.” Rusty coughed, opened the window and spit onto the pavement. “I’ve got the gun pointed dead center against this seat. You so much as sneeze and I’ll put a bullet right through you.”
“You shoot me while I’m driving and we’re both going to die.”
“I’m already a dead man. If I get caught I’ll either be charged with Fish’s murder, or drug trafficking, or both. One thing you’d better understand. I’d rather be dead than spend the last years of my life in prison.”
I studied the dark pools of his eyes through the mirror, considered my options and realized I had none. “The road to Roy’s place is pretty rough. I wouldn’t want that gun to go off by accident,” I said.