Queen of Broken Hearts (39 page)

Although the produce stand is open to the elements in the front and screened on the sides, the back is solid, and Cooter keeps a small heater there, next to the peanut boiler and a couple of rocking chairs. He is a lackadaisical businessman, as might be expected, and you never know if he'll be running the stand or on the creek fishing. We see his grandson in the back, propped up by the heater, but Cooter's nowhere to be seen.

I look at Zoe quizzically. “Don't tell me you dragged me all the way out here to see Cooter Poulette.”

“Of course not,” she snaps. “Far as I can tell, the dumbass is not even here. But look what he's done! I've never been so humiliated in all my born days.”

She points to the front of the produce stand, and I laugh and put a hand over my mouth. I've forgotten about Cooter's infamous sign. At one time Cooter's sign was the talk of Fairhope. A few years ago, Zoe and Cooter found a treasure at a flea market, a discarded church sign with boxes of letters, which Cooter hung in front of his business. One night Cooter got drunk and changed the letters on the sign to read
BETTER OVER THE HILL THAN UNDER IT!
His cronies got such a kick out of it that Cooter got inspired and began putting up more outrageous sayings. Eventually he tired of it, and the sign said simply
GONE CRAZY - BE BACK SOON
.

Today, though, Cooter has outdone himself. In bold letters, he's put
WIFE WANTED. APPLY WITHIN
. Underneath, he added details:
Good-looking older man desires woman with better sense than the one who turned him down.

“Would you look at that!” Zoe Catherine cries. “If Cooter Poulette is good-looking, I'll kiss your behiney in the middle of downtown Fairhope.”

“You going to fill out an application?” I say with a grin.

“You think he's joking? When I drove by this morning, three women were lined up, filling 'em out. Cooter was here, and he was looking them over, I tell you. They were nothing but floozies, either.
Old
floozies!”

“Guess you've blown your chance with Cooter. Christmas Eve, he got down on his knees and begged you to marry him, did he not?”

“Yeah, and his arthritis is so bad, he couldn't straighten up afterward. I tried to call his boy to come help me but couldn't get ahold of him. So I had to put Cooter to bed bent over like a pretzel.”

“Why do you think he's gotten it in his head that he wants you two to get married after all these years?”

Zoe Catherine shakes her head. “Aw, I do feel kind of sorry for him. But not sorry enough to marry him,” she adds quickly.

“Sorry for him? He's not well?”

“It's not that.” She stares out the window of the pickup, her brow furrowed. “Poor Cooter can't stand to be by himself anymore. Says he gets so lonesome, it drives him crazy. I get lonesome, too, but that's no reason to get
married.
Lonesomest folks I know are the married ones. And what makes him think I want to spend the rest of my life taking care of an old man?”

“Why don't y'all just live in sin?”

“Suits me fine, but no, Cooter's never been married. Did you know that? In spite of a couple of common-law wives and a few kids scattered around, he's never made it to the altar. He says he wants to get married just once before he dies, to see if it's as bad as everybody says.”

I study her, choosing my words carefully. “You've had lots of men, but you only married once. Did you love Papa Mack?”

She eyes me suspiciously. In spite of my probing, she never discusses her relationship with Papa Mack. All I know is, she met him fishing at the Landing. Evidently Papa Mack, a staid young businessman, was enchanted with the wild, dark-haired beauty, and they had a brief but passionate romance. As was customary in those days, the parents of the young couple quickly married them off when Zoe got pregnant at age eighteen. The marriage soon soured, and Zoe was so miserable living in town at Papa Mack's big old mausoleum of a house that she took her baby and disappeared. As innocent as one of her doves, Zoe knew nothing about power and political influence, but she was soon to find out. Restraining order in hand, the sheriff found her and took Mack back to his father. Both of them told Zoe they'd be forced to charge her with kidnapping and lock her up if she came around her son again. Mack was poisoned against her, told that she'd deserted him. He grew up resenting Zoe and thinking she'd abandoned him to a stepmother he hated, who hated him in turn. I've always known that Zoe was much more destroyed by the whole thing than she's ever let on.

Scowling, Zoe shrugs. “
Love?
I don't have no idea what love is. You've got all those degrees, yet I'll bet you don't know any more about it than the rest of us.”

“That's for sure,” I agree. “All I know is, since the beginning of time, it's been the basis of more songs, stories, and poems than anything, for something so little understood.”

“I reckon that's why—folks trying to make sense of it.”

“Think you'll give in and marry Cooter?”

Zoe looks at me as though I've lost my mind. “You tell me, girl, why I'd want to do something again that I messed up so bad the first time.” She turns her head to glare at the sign. “And I sure wouldn't, after Cooter pulling something like this.”

“Dare you to go inside and get an application.”

“The day hell freezes over.”

I open the door of the truck. “If you won't, then I will.”

“
You're
going to marry Cooter?”

“Yeah, right. Be still my heart! My guess is, he just put up that sign to get your goat. And it worked, didn't it?”

“Huh! Cooter's got the big head so bad that he got his grandson to make a hundred applications on his computer. A hundred! If I wanted to make a fortune, I'd buy Cooter Poulette for what he's worth and sell him for what he thinks he's worth.”

Before Zoe can stop me, I run inside and tell Cooter's grandson I want several of the applications. He looks at me curiously, peering over my shoulder to the pickup, but Zoe has ducked down. As though everyone doesn't know her green truck with the Landing Nature Preserve printed on the side.

I've barely closed the door of the truck when Zoe Catherine pulls away so fast that the wheels spin in the dirt, spraying sand and rocks behind us. Cooter's grandson stands up to see what is going on. “Oh, Lord, this is a scream,” I tell her. “Look, he even has a place for the applicant's photograph. He wrote the whole thing to aggravate you. Aw, that's kinda sweet! Anybody who'd go to so much trouble must really love you. Listen to this. ‘Circle the ones that apply. A) likes to cut bait; B) likes to fish; C) likes to clean fish; D) likes to eat fish; E) none of the above. Note: If you circled E, might as well throw the damn application away.'”

When I look at Zoe for her reaction, I see that her lips are turning up at the corners, but she catches herself and frowns. “What you gonna do with those applications?” she snaps at me.

“Have fun with them. I can't wait to show Dory and Rye and Lex. Oh, and Haley. It'll do her good to have a laugh now.”

“Take a few and leave the rest for me. I'll fix him up, teach the idiot a lesson he won't forget.”

“What are you up to?”

She smiles her mischievous smile. “What you think? I'm gonna fill out every one of them. Make up names. Paste on pictures of the ugliest hags I can find. Matter of fact, I'll get Haley to help me. I'm heading to her place after I take you back home.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “That's a great idea—” I stop, turning my head to watch the car that just whizzed past us in the other lane. “Zoe! Turn around.” I realize I should've known better when Zoe squeals the truck into a wide U-turn. I grab the door handle, yelling, “Jesus Christ!”

“If Jesus is in that car, I can catch him,” Zoe says, throwing me a wicked look.

“Actually, it's Austin. But he'd probably think I was right the first time.”

Throwing me forward as far as the seat belt will allow, Zoe slams on the brakes, and the driver of the car behind us sits on his horn before screeching past us, giving Zoe the finger. Not surprisingly, Zoe rolls down her window and sticks out her hand, middle finger erect. “Hope I never get too old to do that,” she says, chortling. “It's more fun than it ought to be. Now, you follow Austin Jordan all you want to, but not me. I don't care what the little shit does or where he goes.”

“Indulge me, okay? I've got my reasons. But hurry. We've already lost him.”

Zoe glances at me in disgust. “You want me to catch him, you better hang on. He can't outrun me, I guaran-damn-tee you.”

“Don't let him see us, or he won't turn off. That's all I want to see, if he turns in to the driveway where the Webbs live. If I can remember which one it is.”

“The Webbs? That prissy little thing who works for Austin, the one with the husband who's always grinning like a possum?”

“John and Wanda Webb. See, I'm wondering about their role in all this. I have a feeling that's where Austin's staying. Every afternoon when I've left my office and started walking home, I've seen Austin's car heading their way. I didn't think anything of it at first, but now I wonder.” Zoe turns her head to look at me, puzzled, and I gesture toward the road, shrieking, “God Almighty—watch where you're going!”

“I don't get it. Haley told me that Austin was staying at some professor's house who's gone overseas.”

I shake my head in disgust. “I don't believe that anymore. I got suspicious when he wouldn't tell her where the guy's apartment is, and the only way she can reach him is at work or on his cell phone. I think he's at the Webbs', and he told Haley that story about the professor so she wouldn't show up there. Though I doubt it's her he's worried about. More likely it's you or Jasmine he's afraid of.”

Zoe snorts. “That boy got any sense, he'd better be. I ever see him again, I'll cut off his tallywacker and feed it to the fish in Folly Creek.”

I roll my eyes. “Gosh, I can't imagine why he'd think he has to hide from you. Look! He's turning in now. What's the name on the mailbox?”

“Webb.” Zoe turns her head to grin at me. “Hot damn! We got him.”

Back home, I'm so surprised to answer the phone and hear Austin's voice on the other end that I sink into a kitchen chair. Ever since he moved out, I've left him dozens of messages, begging him to call me. In an effort to get him to return my call, I said I was terribly concerned about him, that I loved him, and if he'd talk to me, I'd just listen and not condemn him. All I wanted was to help him and Haley and the kids through this difficult time. I didn't expect a response, and I didn't get one.

“Clare?” Austin's voice is tentative, shaky. “I saw you and Gramma Zoe today when you turned around to follow me.”

“Austin, I beg you—please, let's talk! Can you come over now? Or to my office? Would you feel more comfortable in my office?”

His sigh is ragged and full of pain. “This isn't easy for me.”

“I know. I can only imagine what you're going through. It's bad for everyone. None of us is immune. It's an awful thing.”

“I'm sick about it,” he says, his voice breaking. “Just sick. I'd never hurt Haley and the kids, you know that.” His laugh is tired and bitter. “Yeah, right, huh? My head's all screwed up. I don't know what's wrong. I'm so confused and … I don't know … screwed up now.”

“Austin, you're trained as a counselor. You
know
you need to get some help. I won't offer to find you someone, because I don't think that's what you need. Find someone yourself, someone you trust to help you get your head on straight.”

“John's a counselor, you know. John Webb?”

“No. It can't be a friend, you know that.”

There's a long pause before he says, “How's Haley doing?”

Weighing my words, I reply, “Well, she's holding up for the kids. That's how she's making it now. But she's not good. She's having a difficult time.” My voice catches, and I put a hand over my mouth to stifle a sob.

“Next Friday night, I'm getting the kids,” he says in a weary voice. “Only time I've seen them since I left. But Haley agreed to let me have them for one night. Clare? You think the kids will be okay?”

“No, I don't. I'm sorry; I know that's not what you want to hear. But they don't understand what's going on. Zach is angry. He got in trouble at day care the other day for hitting a kid. That's not like Zach, and you know it. He doesn't know how to deal with any of this.”

“Oh, God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry …” His voice trails off, then I hear a click and the phone goes dead.

Lex isn't buying it. He narrows his eyes and stares at me suspiciously before saying, “You don't like to take the boat out in the winter. Last time we went—the week after Thanksgiving, right?—it wasn't nearly this cold, and you bitched and moaned the whole time. Drove me so batty, I ended up taking you back to shore, remember? I'm not taking you boating until spring, so you can forget it.”