Final Justice (33 page)

She tasted boiled pork and peas. "I'm sorry..." She leaped to her feet and ran from the room.

Glancing around to make sure he'd left no clue that he'd been there, he thought of Emma Jean and wondered how long she had waited behind the cemetery before giving up on him. He hadn't meant to take so long going through Buddy's files, but then he never thought there would be so many.

He left as he had come, without being seen. He was done. Now all he had to do was figure out why Buddy Hampton sent money to Birmingham every month and hope he had scared Murline into keeping him informed of anything else he might find useful.

He drove by Emma Jean's house. The lights were on in the kitchen. Rudy would be home, and she was probably fixing him something to eat, and then they'd go to bed, and...

He slammed his hands on the steering wheel and cursed himself for fretting because it was a danger signal he was getting too involved. Hell, he'd known for weeks he was getting in over his head, but what to do about it was bugging him badly. He drove on through the night, the air sweet and loamy from fresh-planted crops as he took back roads, not only through the countryside but also through his mind. So many landmarks to ignite memories. Some good. Some bad. But all there, indelibly stamped in his brain.

He wondered if maybe it didn't get worse as a person got older, the years stretching out behind and leaving a trail in the dust like drops from a leaky oil tank, making more and more memories to hurt and sting and prod wishes for having done things differently. But it was called life, and there was no getting around it. Face it. Feel the hurt. Mull the disappointments. Keep on going, and try like hell to leave some good drops along with the bad.

Chapter 19

Spring came to Alabama.

Dogwood blossoms dotted the woods like popcorn, and cotton plants strained to burst forth from the earth. There had been some heavy rains and a few small tornadoes, which was not unusual for this time of year, but the sweet fragrance of gardenias wafted from front porches banked by red and pink and white azaleas. Lawns were greening, and birds were nesting.

It was a most glorious season, and, for the first time in his life, Luke welcomed and enjoyed it because, in the past, springtime hadn't meant anything to him. Maybe that was because he had never had anyone to share it with. And now he did—Emma Jean.

Lord, that woman had a hold on his heart he didn't want to think about. Every time they were together, he fell harder and counted the days and hours till next time.

He had been especially looking forward to the day ahead because Bert Veazey, the old skinflint, was being forced to close the laundromat long enough to install two new dryers after the old ones finally gave out and couldn't be fixed. So Emma Jean was off while Rudy was on day shift.

It wasn't quite nine o'clock. Luke was picking her up on the road a little ways from her house at a spot where she could duck into a thicket of wild plum bushes and hide if anybody happened along before he did. He had a blanket in the trunk and knew of a real isolated spot by a creek below Crow's Knob where he'd played as a kid. Nobody ever went there anymore.

He stopped by the store and picked up a couple of ready-made sandwiches, a can of pork and beans, a slab of hoop cheese, two Moon Pies, and a couple of sodas. They would have a picnic on the creek bank...
and a picnic in each other's arms.
Yes, it was going to be a mighty fine day, and he was whistling when he turned into Creech's station.

He got out of the car as one of the attendants started filling the tank, intending to go inside and catch up on any gossip from the men hanging around in there. Then he saw Sara drive up to a pump and remembered it had been several weeks since that night she'd called and Alma got her back up about it.

He walked over. "Sorry, I haven't had a chance to call you, Sara. Is somebody still swiping your papers?"

"It wasn't about the damn newspapers, Luke."

"Oh?" He put a hand on the roof of the truck and leaned closer. "What then?"

She turned her head, but not before he saw tears in her eyes. "Tim hasn't found out about Dewey, has he?"

She was curt. "No."

"Then what's wrong?"

"I'll handle it myself."

"Okay, so you're mad at me because I didn't get back to you, and I'm sorry. Now tell me about it."

"Not here." She darted anxious glances about. "God knows, Luke, Alma was so mad about my calling you I half-expected her to come running right over to my house that night to tear my hair out."

He felt a rush of peeve. "Don't worry about her. Just tell me what you wanted."

"Not here,"
she repeated, looking at him again, this time in desperation rather than anger. "I've got to get back to the field. Dewey is setting tomato plants, and I've got to stop at the store to get sodas for the hands. Follow me, and we can talk there."

The store was in the opposite direction from where he was supposed to meet Emma Jean in ten minutes. If he followed Sara, he'd be delayed at least a half hour, maybe longer. Emma Jean wouldn't know what was keeping him and give up and go home. There was no way for him to contact her, and the day would be ruined. "Look, Sara, I can't right now. There's some place I've got to go. But later..."

"Oh, forget it." She turned the ignition key to start the engine.

"Hey, Sara," Leonard Creech yelled. "Hang on. I'll be right with you."

"Never mind," she yelled back. "I've got enough to do me."

She shifted gears, preparing to drive away, and Luke tried once more. "Maybe late this evening I can give you a call, and we can meet then."

"Tim will be home. I said I'll handle it myself."

She fixed him with an icy scowl before squealing tires as she tore away from the gas station. Had it been anybody else, he would have jumped in his car and hit the blue light, pulled them over, and written a ticket for reckless driving. But this was Sara, and something had her really agitated, so he let her go.

Leonard walked over to grumble about impatient women, but Luke wasn't listening. He was too engrossed in wondering what had Sara so riled up. He had never seen her like that. However, by the time he signed the charge slip for the gas and drove away, she had slipped from his mind, pushed away by thoughts of Emma Jean.

* * *

"This is what heaven must be like." Emma Jean twined a weeping willow frond about her fingers as she stood marveling at the clear, cool waters of the creek and the velvety green banks.

Luke laughed and pointed to a limb hanging out over the stream. "I doubt heaven will have any rotten ropes."

She followed his gaze. "What on earth is that? Was somebody hanged here?"

"No. It's a swing rope. We used to come here in the summer when we were kids, and we'd grab hold of it and back off for a running start and then leap from the bank to swing right about to there." He pointed to a wide spot in the creek. "And then we'd let go. But I guess kids nowadays spend all their time watching television instead of playing outside."

He had taken off his shirt. She threw herself against him, wrapping her arms about him as she pressed her cheek against his chest. "I can't think of anything in the whole world I'd rather do than play outside with you."

He cupped her chin and lowered his face to hers. "I feel the same way, honey. I've never had so much fun as I do when I'm with you."

He kissed her, leaving them both shaken when he finally let her go to quickly spread the blanket beneath the weeping willow.

"Are you sure nobody ever comes along here?" she asked nervously as she began to unbutton her blouse. She folded it carefully, along with her shorts, so she wouldn't have to explain wrinkles or grass stains.

"There's nothing to worry about," he assured, peeling out of his khaki uniform trousers and laying them neatly beside his shirt. "There used to be a little church nearby, but it burned back in the fifties. I heard the county eventually took the land over when the taxes weren't paid, so here it sits. It's so far out nobody wants it."

"I'd want it. I'd want a house right up there on that little knoll. And I wouldn't care how far out it is because, if you and me were living here, I'd never want to go anywhere, and..." She fell silent, suddenly embarrassed. They never talked about being together that way, and here she had made it sound like she was living for the day when he'd divorce Alma and marry her. Oh, Lord, why couldn't she keep her mouth shut?

Luke pulled her into his arms once more. "I'd like that, sweetheart. I really would."

They collapsed to the ground in a frenzy of heat.

Afterwards, Luke rolled to his side. Propping on an elbow as he tenderly gazed down at her, he toyed with one of her nipples, liking the feel of it rolling between his thumb and fingers. "Plump like a strawberry. I envy the baby that nurses on you, Emma Jean."

"Well, I don't reckon there'll ever be one. Not as long as I'm married to Rudy if I can help it." She stared up into the swaying fronds, the tender moment spoiled by thoughts of her wretched marriage.

Not about to let a shadow fall over their day, Luke scrambled to his feet, pulling her up with him. "How about a swim?"

She resisted. "My hair will get wet, and it might not dry by the time I get home, thick as it is, and Rudy will notice and start asking questions."

"Tell him you washed it."

"On a Wednesday? He'd never believe that. He knows I only shampoo on Saturdays. That's when we heat water on the stove for our baths."

"Then we'll just go in up to our necks."

And so they did. Afterwards, they feasted on the picnic Luke had brought, then walked along the creek bank in search of four-leaf clovers. They held hands and talked, eventually broaching the part of their lives that caused them the most grief, their marriages.

"Wasn't there ever a time when you thought you were in love with Alma?" Emma Jean asked as they sat on rocks, their feet dangling in the water. She had put her bra and panties back on, and Luke was wearing his shorts.

He scoffed at the question. "No, there wasn't. Like I said, it was a quickie in the back seat that made a baby, and I had to do right by her, at least, that's what my momma made me believe."

"You loved her a lot, didn't you, your momma?"

"Yes, I did, because she was the only person I ever felt loved me. She was all I had."

"But what about your little girl? Aren't you close to her?"

"Alma's done a good job of making her think all our problems are my fault. I gave up on her long ago."

Emma Jean's heart went out to him, and, as she placed her hand on his knee in a gesture of comfort, longed to tell him he was wrong, that his mother wasn't the only person who had ever loved him. But she said nothing, keeping her secret. They had agreed only to have fun together, not to get serious, which could lead to complications. She feared if he realized she had fallen for him, he would stop seeing her, and she could not bear the thoughts of that. He was the only reason she had to live in an otherwise cruel and lonely world.

Luke looked at his watch. It was nearly three o'clock, and Emma Jean cried, "Oh, God, Luke, I'll never make it home before Rudy. I've got to walk home from where you drop me off, and then wash off, and..."

"And you'll make it." He grabbed her arm and steered her along the creek to where he'd left the car. She laid down in the seat, her head in his lap so she would not be seen by anyone they passed as he drove as fast as he dared on the curving roads. Reaching her driveway and making sure Rudy's truck wasn't there, he let her out. No time for a kiss, just a hurried promise to be in touch when he could. Emma Jean scrambled from the car and ran all the way to the house.

The stove clock read 3:10, which meant she had about ten minutes to get herself looking normal and start supper. Rudy liked to eat early when the days were warm and getting longer. It gave him more time afterwards to spend at the grill with his drinking buddies. With cold water from the sink, she quickly soaped and rinsed and had just pulled on clean shorts and a top when Rudy drove his truck into the yard. A few seconds later, he walked in, set his metal lunch box on the table with a thud, glanced around, then snarled, "You ain't started my supper yet, woman? I shoulda known you wouldn't do nothin' on your day off 'cept sit on your ass."