Nether Regions (26 page)

“I’m going to be a gambling woman today, Hinchey.” She took her eyes from his mystified face and studied the road in both directions. “I’m gambling that you can pull this off. We found him like that, you hear me. It looks like he fell and hit his head and that’s what we’ll let nature tell the authorities. You and me just found him that way when we come to pick him up. That’s all. Can you make it this way? In your mind, I mean?”

Hinchey thought a moment, forehead wrinkled as if in pain. “Yeah, I guess I can, but...”

“And I’m gambling that there was no one else there in the park today. That by the time the law gets involved there won’t be any evidence of the fight and that the people who know me, know Louie, will find no loss in his passing.”

She paused and took a deep breath. “It’s a chance, I know, but I also know there’s nothing fair in you going to jail for helping put an old, mean-spirited dog out of his misery.”

Hinchey sighed and stared at the countryside rolling away on the other side of the boundary fence. Delora got out of the car.

“Now, get over here and drive out to the road where you can get a signal. You just call an ambulance and tell them Louie November is hurt at Manahassanaugh Park. Just call an ambulance, no one else. Hear me?”

Hinchey slid across until he sat behind the wheel, his eyes, almost hopeful, met Delora’s steady gaze. “I’m sorry, Lora. I never meant to cause you any grief.”

“Then do this one thing right.” She leaned in and pressed one palm to his cheek. “You know, no one has ever stood up for me before. That’s special and I’ll never forget it. No matter what happens with this, I’ll always know you did that for me.”

Hinchey felt his heart constrict with love for this woman but realized with keen loss that there would never be anything more. Within seconds, he had accepted this fact and resigned himself to it.

Delora patted the side of the car. “Go on then, and hurry. Say he’s hurt and they need to come quick.”

After Hinchey spun away, Delora walked back to Louie. She studied the angle of the waste can and Louie’s head and decided that yes, it could have happened that way. He could have been walking along, lost his balance, fallen. Using the toe of her sneaker, she nudged his cane into a more believable position, then fell to her knees beside the body. Bracing herself, she turned him over fully, shuddering as his half-bloodied face turned to the sky. His burned eyes, now relaxed in death, didn’t seem so mocking and she was glad for that. If his gaze had continued to mock her even after death, she would have had them carry her away in a straitjacket. Thoughts filled her head then. It was a type of wake, a remembrance of her life with Louie. She saw no joy there and felt only sorrow for two wasted lives. By the time the ambulance lumbered in with flashing red and yellow lights, tears were bathing her cheeks. Tears not for the loss of Louie, but for the loss of her youth.

Chapter Forty-Two

Rosalie was still with her sister so the house was unusually silent when Delora entered later that evening. Nevertheless, she moved quickly. In her bedroom, she gathered everything she owned into a pile in the middle of the bed then into two huge garbage bags she fetched from underneath the kitchen sink. Everything fit nicely into the two bags—her whole life. She left the cooler in the bottom of the closet. She left the vodka too.

There was no sadness in leaving this house. She’d had few good times here. Now that her duty—no, bondage—to Louie was through, there was nothing to hold her here. Dropping her bags beside the front door, she moved back through the long dark hallway and into the sunlit kitchen. It looked so normal, for goodness’ sake, as if Louie wasn’t dead and Delora leaving and Rosalie alone again. It would see breakfast again, dinner tonight. Delora shuddered and moved to the laundry room door. It took mere minutes for her to shift the moveable panel of plywood and see the huge jars filled with money on shelves behind it.

Conscience stayed her hand. This was stealing, pure and simple. Obviously, this money was important to Rosalie or she wouldn’t be hoarding it.

Then Delora thought of working three jobs, of turning over Louie’s disability check every month.
I’ve earned this
, she thought harshly. Shutting down her nagging conscience, she hefted one of the gallon-plus-sized pickle jars, then lifted a second. Fetching two more garbage bags from under the sink, she carefully placed a jar in each. Dragging one in each hand, she moved through the eerily silent house and out the front door. Hinchey sat behind the wheel of the idling car as she’d asked. She didn’t want him seeing this. For some odd reason, she knew it would embarrass her if he saw how she and Louie had lived. She put the jars in the open trunk and turned back to the house.

An onslaught of exhaustion washed across her as she mounted the porch steps, making her dizzy. She grasped the handrail to steady herself until the faintness eased but realized her reserves were dangerously low. Quickly she hefted the other two bags and hurried back to the car. After a moment of thought she made one more trip back inside.

In the laundry room, she moved jars around until she was sure it would take some time before Rosalie realized Delora had taken some of them. Fighting a new ambush of guilt, she lifted one more dusty jar, from a bottom far corner. She hoped this one held some of the Social Security payments from her parents’ death. She looked at it a long time, her breathing shallow and measured. The faded currency inside gave no clue, but Delora was convinced this money was her legacy from them. Closing the wall panel and making sure all was as it had been before, she walked from Rosalie’s house for the final time. She knew, no matter what happened to her, she’d never willingly return here. Too much had changed. She had changed.

The car waited, trunk gaping, as she made her way to it. Having such a small life meant she could easily re-create it, mold it to whatever she wanted it to be. This thought was exhilarating; she felt young and expectant once again. She turned and looked at the house one final time. She felt some sadness for Louie’s passing but more relief that Sheriff Jonas had believed their story.

There’d been no doubt in his blue eyes. He’d listened to Delora’s account as the rescue crew bundled up Louie’s brawny form. He’d nodded, gaze sad as he told her that the state might need an autopsy, but he’d have to check the law book on that. He’d patted Delora on the back, shaken Hinchey’s hand and expressed real sorrow for the loss. Then he was gone and Hinchey had driven Delora here.

Stowing the last jar of money in with her bags of clothing, Delora allowed the trunk lid to close and scrambled into the passenger seat next to Hinchey.

“Thank you,” she said, watching his face. His expression was thoughtful, but Delora could see he knew they’d done the right thing for everyone concerned.

“What do you think Rose will do when she comes home and you’ve cleared out?”

Delora shrugged. “I need a cigarette. Can I smoke in here?”

He nodded and she lit up, desperately drawing in the smoke. “I don’t much care, Hinchey. I’m done.”

Chapter Forty-Three

“Bucky? Louie’s dead.”

Bucky didn’t say anything for a long moment.

“He’s dead? What do you mean? What happened?”

“Well,” she sighed heavily. “Hinchey gave me a ride over to the park to pick him up. They got into a fight—they’ve always hated one another—and Louie fell.”

“Fell?”

“Yeah, and hit his head. There was this concrete trash can…”

“So he’s really dead? He’s gone?”

Delora knew Bucky was trying hard to gauge her feelings. To see whether he should express the elation he was feeling or whether he should grieve as he supported her during this loss.

“Yeah. At last he’s out of my life.”

Bucky took a deep breath of relief. “Are you okay? Are you sad?”

“Not sad. Scared. I can’t imagine life on my own. I’ve been…dealing with him for so long…”

“Where are you? What are you going to do now?”

Delora looked around the parking lot of the Clarence Road Shopping Center next door to where she’d had her car serviced. She studied the busy women hurrying into the line of intriguing stores. It was a given that she would never be like them. Her life experiences had changed her into something far different. “I don’t know, Bucky. Guess I’m in limbo right now.”

“How are things with Sophie?”

The mention of Sophie’s name stirred something good deep inside. Then alarm. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“Whoa. What’s going on?”

“She can’t want me. Not how I am.” She sighed as tears welled.

“Self-pity. Never thought it connected with you.”

It took her a good while to discern his meaning. Then she bristled. “It’s a fact, Bucky.”

“Oh, she told you this. That must have hurt.”

“Well…”

“Right. Why don’t you stop trying to think for her.”

She had to smile. There was no bullshit with Bucky. “Okay, point taken. I’m afraid though, Buck. I’m afraid Hinchey will get in trouble with the police…”

“Could he?”

“Sure. They could say he pushed him. I’m not so sure he didn’t. I mean, he was defending me and jumped on him. I think Louie lost his footing and that’s what I’ll tell them if they ever ask. It all happened so fast.”

“Did anyone else see?”

“No. We were alone. Hinchey wanted to tell the police everything, but I told him not to. I told him to lie and say we found him that way. Was that wrong?”

Bucky was quiet.

“I mean, I don’t
feel
it was wrong, but I know it should be, you know?”

“Let it go, Delora. Hinchey sounds like a good old boy who wouldn’t hurt a fly. Why let Louie’s death ruin his life?”

“Yeah.”

“What else is bothering you?”

“I’m afraid Sophie won’t want me, that Rosalie is going to give me a lot of grief, that I can’t take care of myself. That I’ll be alone again…” Her voice broke as a sob escaped. She was perilously close to tears.

“Self-pity.” He sighed. “Such a waste. Just stop and put one foot in front of the other. Look at what you’ve come through. The burning. The healing. The meds. Do you really think there’s anything you can’t overcome. That you can’t deal with?”

Delora thought about his words. About the truth there. Damn Bucky. Her hand crept down to pinch at the phoenix tattoo hidden beneath her jeans.

“I’m keeping my jobs,” she said as if beginning a list. “My friend Annie owns some houses, so I’ll see if she has one I can rent. I took money from Rosalie’s so I should be okay for a while.”

“Ah, the money in the wall. How much?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t even counted it. I will. I’m sure it’s enough. I left her plenty too.”

“And Sophie?” he interjected.

Delora laughed softly. “I guess I’ll see how she feels.”

“Good answer.”

Silence fell.

“Are you sad about Louie at all?”

“I don’t feel much about him,” she replied thoughtfully. “All I can think about is Sophie and about helping the people here. They’re so cool, Bucky. You have no idea. They have no money and their houses are just shit but they…they’re so cool. It’s like they keep getting in their own way, though. They have no money, no education, but they get by. Day after day. It’s amazing. And what Sophie does…I can’t believe what she knows and what she can do. It kills me to watch her.”

“She must be awesome.”

Delora sighed, eyes welling with tears. “I’m gonna say this one more self-pitying thing and then I’ll stop.”

“Okay,” he replied softly.

“Why now, Buck? After the burns? Why couldn’t I have met her before? I’ve got to be repulsive to her and she’s so…” a new sob tore through her, “so incredible.”

“Listen.” His voice was soothing in its no-nonsense delivery. “Maybe you weren’t ready then. You’ve told me what your life was like. Didn’t sound too healthy. Maybe that’s what would have put her off.”

Delora had never thought of this aspect. “Maybe you’re right,” she admitted.

“Can I come see you?”

Delora realized suddenly that Bucky Clyde could visit now that Louie was gone. In the past, she’d always discouraged the possibility because she knew Louie would not have understood their friendship. He wouldn’t have understood the closeness. The idea of Bucky Clyde visiting filled her with excitement.

“Could you? I mean…”

“Absolutely. I can’t come right away because I’m in contract negotiations with Frank and tied down. Two weeks, though. Would that be okay? I can suspend this new round of therapy and come down for a long visit.”

“Oh, Bucky. That would be perfect. It would allow things to settle down a little, and I should be in my own place by then.”

“Good. Will the people there be okay with me?”

“Does it really matter?”

Bucky chuckled softly. “Touché.”

Delora felt oddly pleased. “It’ll be fine. I can’t wait.”

Chapter Forty-Four

The Red Roof Inn outside downtown Redstar wasn’t fancy, but it was quiet, secluded and certainly fit Delora’s need to reflect on her life and her future. Going back to Rosalie’s would be like entering the mouth of a volcano. No way.

Once settled into the room, she took a long, very hot shower and allowed her mind to empty of everything. Rational thinking was the first to go, and she found herself thinking insanely of a nursery rhyme her mother had sung often.
Lambs eat oats and mares eat oats
rambled repeatedly through her mind until she began to wonder if this behavior heralded her descent into the loony bin. The idle thought was comforting. Emotion left her next, and her being centered around the wet heat of the shower and the sensory experience of the soft rain of water sluicing across her skin.

She touched her scarred abdomen, reveling in the numbness there as she never had before. A New-Agey aspect of herself declared that she loved this infirm part of her body. For more than two years, she had hated it. Though not admitting it openly, she blamed the wounded area as harshly as she blamed Louie for what had happened to her. After all, the wounds would keep her from love and life just as effectively as Louie’s actions that hateful morning. She knew now that this attitude was wrong and against nature. Sophie had taught her this.