Sparring Partners(13)
“I’m sure it won’t. Look, Dean, I’ve made the call. The rest is up to Lisa.”
“And what might Mack want to talk about?”
“I don’t know. He wants to meet with Lisa and then maybe with the girls.”
“This is nothing but trouble, Jake.”
“I know.”
“I can’t imagine Lisa wanting to see him and I’m sure she’ll keep the girls away.”
“I can’t blame her for that.”
Another pause, then Dean said, “She and the girls are coming over for dinner. I’ll have to tell the family about this.”
“Sure. I’m sorry to be involved, Dean.”
“Thanks, Jake.”
Later in the afternoon, Lisa arrived with the two girls, Margot and Helen. She was weak and fragile and had stopped driving. Margot, at seventeen, was more than happy to be the chauffeur. She and Helen quickly changed into bikinis and jumped in the pool. Their two cousins, the Pettigrew boys, were in Oxford at an Ole Miss baseball game.
Lisa preferred to sit on the veranda, in the cool shade, with a heavy ceiling fan rotating slowly above her. Stephanie served lemonade and sat beside her sister. Dean took a seat and they watched the girls bounce off the diving board. Though Margot was only a year older than Helen, the difference was striking. Margot was mature and fully developed and could pass for a young lady of twenty. Her bikini was mostly strings, rather skimpy in Dean’s judgment, and it would not be liked by her grandparents, who were due in an hour or so. Dean knew that Margot could not care less what they thought and had spent the last year finding ways to disappoint them. Helen was the quieter of the two, even timid at times, and still had the skinny body of a twelve-year-old. They, along with their mother, had been humiliated by Mack’s grand adventure, his sudden disappearance, his abandonment. The whole family had been humiliated.
Over the past year, as one treatment after another failed to stop a very aggressive cancer, the family had whispered about what to do with the girls. There were only two options, neither attractive. They would live with their grandparents, or they would move into the Pettigrews’ spacious home. No one really wanted them, especially Margot. Regardless, though, they would land in a warm place, surrounded by loving relatives.
Was there now a third option? Did Mack come back to rescue the girls after their mother died? Dean had serious doubts about this. Mack had abandoned them, and it seemed inconceivable that he would settle down in Clanton and try to be a father.
Dean said, “Let’s get this out of the way before your parents get here. Lisa, I got a phone call from Jake Brigance earlier this afternoon. He’s in contact with Mack, who’s now back in the area.”
As frail as she was, Lisa managed a quick and nasty “That son of a bitch.”
“Or worse. He wants to meet with you and he wants to see the girls.”
Stunned, her mouth fell open and her sad eyes doubled in size. “He what?”
“You heard me.”
“When did he get back?”
“I don’t know and I don’t think he’s in town, but he’s around. Details are sketchy.”
“Can’t they arrest him?”
“We didn’t talk about that, didn’t get that far.”
She sat her lemonade on a side table, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. She was a pitiful sight, and Dean and Stephanie ached for her. She knew she was dying, and now this. The past ten years had been hell. The crumbling marriage to a man who had worked hard but never earned much. His bouts with the bottle. His scandalous disappearance. The endless rumors of him absconding with a pile of money that belonged to his clients. The months and years of no contact. The realization that the scoundrel was really gone and not coming back. She blamed him for her failing health. The stress of the humiliation and the pressure to raise two teenagers as a single mother had taken an ugly toll. She was so tired of crying and tried to control her emotions, but a tear leaked out and she wiped her face. She sniffled, bit her lip, and allowed no more tears.
She opened her eyes and smiled at her sister. She looked at Dean and said, “I take it you’re supposed to call Jake back with an answer.”
“Yes.”
“Well, the answer is no. We have nothing to talk about. The divorce was practically over when he skipped town. Mercifully, it’s been final since then. I do not want to see his face or hear his voice. He has nothing to say and we have nothing to discuss. And if he contacts the girls or tries in any way to see them, I’ll call the police and take him to court if necessary.”
Dean smiled and said, “Clear enough.”
(14)
Early Monday morning, at precisely 5:00 a.m., the appointed hour, Jake rolled out of bed, eased from the bedroom, went to the kitchen, and punched brew on the coffee pot. He went to a spare bedroom downstairs where he showered and dressed. He fetched the Memphis, Tupelo, and Jackson newspapers from the end of his driveway and sat down at the breakfast table with his first cup and the morning’s news. At 5:45, he returned to his bedroom, popped Carla on the rump, kissed her on the cheek, told her he loved her, and left. She buried deeper under the covers, convinced, as always, that he was crazy to be up so early. He peeked in on Hanna and Luke, then left the house. He drove seven minutes to the Clanton square, parked in front of his office, and at 6:00 a.m. entered the Coffee Shop where Dell was laughing with a table of farmers and insulting a table of factory workers. No one else was wearing a coat and tie. He found his usual chair at a table where Andy Furr, a mechanic at the Chevrolet place, was waiting. Dell patted his head, bumped him with her ample rear end, and poured coffee. Marshall Prather, a deputy, said, “Say, Jake, you heard that Mack Stafford is back in town?”