CHAPTER 37
Fancy began to rest a little better, less fits and starts, and stay awake longer over the next few days. Clemmy told me to ease back on the paregoric. Sometimes she would dream and holler out, but as soon as I touched her, she calmed down.
The following Sunday, not wanting to prompt any unwanted visits from Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, I went to church. When the service ended, I walked out with them. Mr. Wilson put his hand against my chest to slow down and let Mrs. Wilson go on ahead. “You hear about the nigger killings up by the creek?”
I stuck my hands inside my pockets. “Killings? What happened?”
“Nobody rightly knows for sure. Bull Jones told Frank May it looked like a nigger drug deal that broke out in a gunfight. Two were lying dead beside a Cadillac, and the car had a trunk full of something called marywanna. You ever heard tell of it before?”
We reached his truck. “Can’t say as I have. What is it?”
“Bull told Frank it’s dope niggers use. When they smoke it, makes ’em go wild. Bull said what didn’t make sense was whoever killed them left all the drugs. At first he thought it might have been somebody in the community, but nobody is taking credit for it.”
I leaned my butt against the front fender. “Dang.” Maybe we should have thrown the marijuana in the creek. “They have any idea who killed them?”
“Bull figures other niggers; said he weren’t going to worry over it too much.”
“That’s crazy stuff.” I started to walk off.
“You ain’t seen nothing of Lightning, have you?”
I turned around. “Haven’t seen too much of anybody here lately.”
At home, I was surprised to find Clemmy in the kitchen setting out dinner. “I fixed enough for y’all this morning. Thought you needed a decent meal.”
“Appreciate it. It’s for sure neither one of us can cook worth a dang.” I took a chair opposite Lightning. “How do you think Fancy is doing?”
“So far, so good. I’m going to chop up a little bit of these potatoes and greens and try to get her to eat something solid. She needs to get her bowels moving so we’re sure everything is working proper.” Clemmy went in with Fancy and shut the door.
I watched Lightning while I chewed on a chicken leg. “Talked to Mr. Wilson after church this morning. He told me the sheriff found Twin and his man.”
Lightning kept his head down. “Yeah, what’d he have to say?”
I gnawed slowly on the gristle of the leg bone, wanting him to feel as uncomfortable as possible. “Mr. Wilson said he didn’t think Bull Jones was going to waste a lot of time on it, but he sure would like to find you.”
Lightning wouldn’t look up; he pushed the food around on his plate. “That so?”
I scooped up the rest of the peas with my spoon, enjoying twisting the knife in Lightning’s gut.
* * *
On Tuesday, I was busy splitting kindling in the woodshed when Bull Jones drove in the yard. “Morning, Junebug.” He let go a mouthful of brown spit.
I squatted down eye-level with the letters CHATHAM COUNTY SHERIFF painted on the door. “Sheriff. What brings you out this way?”
“Hear about the killings over at Northeast Creek?”
“Mr. Wilson got to telling me about it Sunday.”
He kept looking toward the stable and at the house. “You ain’t seen nothing of Roy’s boy, have you?”
“Nope.” I stood up and leaned my hands against the top of the car. “You figure he might be mixed up in it?”
He pushed his hat back and scratched his head. “What I know is all of a sudden I got too many nigger problems, and I don’t like it. Takes up time I need to be doing something else.”
“If I see him, I’ll sure get word to Mr. Wilson.”
He laughed, spraying bits of tobacco juice. “If you see him, shoot the sumbitch and I’ll come pick him up. By the way, you got a gun, don’t you?”
“Yep.”
“What kind?”
“Twelve-gauge my granddaddy left me.” As far as I could remember, nobody had ever seen the twenty-gauge I got for Christmas when I was thirteen.
“That’s right, long-barreled shotgun. I remember that thing; he sure won a lot of turkey shoots with it. If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, go get it and let me look at it.” Bull eyed me like he wanted to see what I might do, but maybe it was my imagination.
My bladder suddenly needed emptying. “No problem, be right back.” I didn’t over-hurry but didn’t waste time either.
Lightning peeped around the door of the bedroom. “What’s going on?”
“Squat down and slip out the back door. If he comes in the house, we’re screwed.”
I found Granddaddy’s old gun. When I reached the car, Bull got out and looked it over, sighted, then broke the barrel down and sniffed. “Don’t seem like you’ve used this much. Ain’t been hunting lately?”
I stood back from him, arms clasped behind. “Never seem to have the time.”
“That’s a mighty fine shotgun. Don’t see many with a barrel that long.” He handed it back. “All right, Junebug. You got plenty of shells, don’t you?”
“Couple of boxes.”
He started backing the car out. “You take care now.” I stood until he disappeared around the curve, then went onto the porch and kept watching.
“Junebug,” Fancy called from the bedroom, “what did the sheriff want?”
I walked in beside her bed. “I took care of it.”
She reached her hand out for me. “You’re a good man for looking after me.” She hadn’t mentioned the love stuff anymore, so I’d put it off to the paregoric making her mind a little mixed up. But then maybe she hadn’t said it again because I hadn’t said it back. Now I didn’t know any way to approach it without it sounding stupid. I needed to tell Fancy how much I loved her, because I surely did. “Fancy, I . . .”
She slid over in the bed. “Will you lay down with me?” I pulled off my shoes and stretched out beside her. Fancy turned on her good side and we lay nose to nose. “What were you going to say?”
“Just wondering if it would be okay if I slept in here with you tonight and got off that couch.” What a chickenshit I was. My face warmed with flush.
“Sure you can.” Fancy took my hand. “I want you to, been a while since I felt your body against mine.”
“Ain’t going to be none of that, there’s no way you’re up to it.”
That night I lay awake a long time. I never wanted anything to come between Fancy and me, but sometimes I wished I’d never started down this road. Nothing seemed clear now. The one thing I’d never wanted to be was an embarrassment to Grandma. The image of a newspaper appeared in my head. It had a picture of me on the front page being led to jail in handcuffs. The headline read: “Local boy gone bad: dope dealer, murderer, and having relations with a Negro.” So, yeah, right now I’d settle for normal again.