CHAPTER 12
Patsy
June, 1952
Danny finally stirred, then slipped in and out of his drowsy state, startling Patsy each time with curses and loud moans. Patsy wasn’t sure whether it was the liquor or the wound causing his outbursts.
“You’ll be fine,” she tried again to quiet him, “but I’m going to be in a mess of trouble when Mama sees me.”
Danny didn’t respond.
Patsy chanced a glance to the backseat. “Did you hear me? Big trouble, losing those pearls.” It scared her a little. Usually Patsy escaped blame and found a way to pin it on Flannery. She didn’t see how that was possible tonight. “Danny?”
“Trouble,” he whispered, “if-if you and Hollis—”
“Please hush about him. As soon as they patch you, we’ll leave here and be together.”
“God”—he stirred loudly—“this d-damn shoulder. Hurts like hell, gawdammit.”
Patsy took one hand off the wheel to rub her sweaty brow. “They’ll fix your arm just fine, Danny.” She had to get him well so they could get away and get hitched.
“Hurry, Patsy. The pain’s getting worse.”
“Hospital Curve’s just up ahead,” she said, tilting further into the steering column, the night coming fast now. The Mercury’s headlights were weak, and Patsy squinted and squirmed, struggling to see through the shadowy canopy of trees and rocks hugging the uphill side of the road.
Danny whimpered some.
“Soon as we take it, we’ll be out of the Palisades and then—” It was more like a prayer than a declaration. “They’ll fix you up.” Patsy pressed down on the gas pedal, goosed it a bit more. She had to get him there faster, now.