Barbara Silkstone - Wendy Darlin 01 - Wendy and the Lost Boys (12 page)

He put his hands on his side of the life preserver. “What do I want? My needs are simple. I want someone with me for the rest of my adventure. My big plans are no fun without a special someone who appreciates the risks I’m taking. Someone who gets me.”

I couldn’t play any longer. It was a waste of my time, and I felt slimed just talking to him. “That someone isn’t me. You’re a dangerous man. Somebody is going to take you out.” I stood up and pushed the life preserver. “Here, you might need this. You’ve got a good place to hang it.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Jaxbee leaned over from the wheelhouse and called to us. “We should be hitting the Intracoastal in about five minutes.”

We were surrounded by black water and bald cypress trees. An otter the size of a calf swam alongside the boat. And there were turtles, tons of turtles.

“To the right there!” Hook said. “See the light? Wait until it blinks again.”

“This is not part of the plan,” Jaxbee yelled at him.

“Quiet! Pull in slowly. Idle the engines and drift in. Bump them only if you have to. Nobody make a sound,” Hook said.

The water around us was creepy silent. Far in the distance I could see bright lights and orange haze. That must be Savannah. We were coming to shore short of our destination. The boat glided through the marsh.

Hook pulled a flashlight from his pocket and blinked it three times. The beam on the shore returned two blinks. “Pull in to the clearing by that big dead tree.”

Crewman Slightly guided the boat alongside a huge stump.

An airboat waited in the darkness.

A man about Hook’s size and build greeted him with a hug as he stepped from the tender.

“Brother,” the stranger said.

“Joseph.” Hook returned the hug. It seemed weird to see the Ponzi pirate being affectionate.

I stood by Jaxbee hoping she’d clue me in. “Don’t say anything,” she whispered.

“Everybody onto the airboat,” Hook ordered as he stepped over and edged past the huge fan. He stood on the bow of what amounted to an engine mounted on a super-wide surfboard.

I climbed on board the airboat followed by Jaxbee and Roger.

“Slightly, take the
Nibs
back to the
Predator
. No stops,” Hook said.

“Yes sir!” the crewman saluted as he put the tender in reverse.

I climbed onboard the airboat, followed by Jaxbee and Roger.

Joseph pointed out the safe seats.

We each took an edge as there were no sides. I sat cross-legged, teetering on the wooden platform and gripping the board beneath me. As my fingers touched the water, I prayed no gators munched my digits. I felt rough wood cutting through my pirate pants and private parts.

“Hold on and don’t let go. Keep your heads down so the bugs don’t get in your eyes. Got it? Ready. Go!”

We raced up the river and through the marsh sitting next to the loudest machine I’d ever heard. No sense in trying to remember the route. Hanging on was more important. My hair whipped across my lips as the sulfur-stink water sprayed my face.

I looked over my shoulder in time to see Hook clutching at his thigh, then his leg. The Ace bandage had come loose, slipped down his leg, then out the pant of his jogging suit. It danced for a minute on the airboat deck. Before he could retrieve it, it blew off behind us and down the Savannah River. His UpUGo sprang to attention.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

In the flap of a buzzard’s wing, we were on land following Joseph through the scrub pines to a pickup truck. It was old, rusty, and smelled like a wet dog. It had one of those extra back seats just tight enough to be painful for Roger, Jaxbee, and me.

“Make yourself to home. My name is Joseph. I’m Charlie’s big brother.” He looked to be in his late 60s. His voice was raw, his accent hardscrabble. “We’ll be driving for a bit. Six hours to be exact. You girls feel like you have to make a stop, give me enough notice. T’aint too many comfort places along the route.”

Hook sat with his hands firmly in his lap, riding shotgun in more ways than one.

“You folks must be hungry. As soon as we get outside the city, there’s a restaurant where we can stop.” Joseph smiled hospitably as he managed to hit every chuckhole with great enthusiasm.

I watched the dimly lit signs as we traveled north.

Ink Wizard Tattoos – Only God can judge you.

Mt. Zion Church – Wed. Meat Loaf

The mosquito bites were torture. I raked my skin, drawing more blood.

Jaxbee mumbled, “Nuts, nuts, nuts.” Repeating it like a prayer. “This is not part of our plan,” she whispered. “Hook’s deviating.”

Since I didn’t know the original plan, I didn’t know how much trouble we were in, but I could agree that Hook was a deviate.

Roger sat silent, his eyes fixed on the road. There was barely enough room in the backseat to get a full breath of air. Gravel whipped the sides of the old truck. I tried to look out the rear window, but could see nothing through the crud and mud. For long lost family, Charlie and Joseph Hook didn’t have much to say. I guessed Hook was pretty well spent from the stress. I wondered if his brother knew what he’d done. Joseph didn’t appear to be the type of guy motivated by money.

After four hours on the road, Joseph said, “Here we go. Get some food in y’all.” He slowed the pickup onto a gravel parking lot. It was after midnight. The restaurant was dimly lit with a sign over the door,
Chick Ain’t Mad at No One Restaurant.
“Don’t think about discussing much here,” Joseph said. “These are our folk, and they don’t like hearing negative things if you get my drift.”

I almost fell on top of Jaxbee as we tumbled from the truck. I hated the way I smelled. I hated the way we all smelled. We stunk like a fishy petting zoo. I needed a restroom with running water and soap. Yes. Soap.

The lights were dim and the menus were greasy. Joseph directed us to the bar stools. “Excuse me while I run to the ladies’ room. You can order without me,” I said.

Joseph smiled a toothless grin. “You’re in Chick’s restaurant. You’ll eat what Chick sets out. The menus are just for show.”

I found my way to the unisex potty. Ice-cold running water and coarse paper towels. No soap. I did without. Drying my hands and running the rough paper on my bites, I wanted to cry. But the only way out was to go forward. I returned to the counter wondering what Chick had decided to feed us.

My plate looked like the others, just smaller portions. Either I appeared to have a lesser appetite or someone had nibbled on my food. There was a tiny slab of ham and two fried eggs. A pat of butter sat in a small wad of thick grits.

Charlie’s brother sat on my left. Jaxbee and Roger had the stools on my right. Joseph leaned toward me directing his words at our miserable, bug-bitten group. Roger wrinkled his upper lip in an Elvis-snarl as he tried to eat.

A muscled old man, balding, with wide-set eyes and a bushy mustache came from behind the kitchen wall. “Good to see you.” He extended a tattooed hand. Joseph shook it. Hook hesitated and then reached over. His UpUGo leaped to attention banging the counter. Chick shot him a peculiar look. “That glad to see me?” His shook his head and turned to the rest of us.

“I’m Chick and this is my place. Any friend of the Hook brothers is always welcome here.” He leaned over the counter studying Jaxbee, Roger, and me. We must have been an odd sight. “You going to or coming from the pirate festival?”

“Just picked ‘em up from Tybee. We’re headed north to my goat farm.” Joseph turned to the rest of us. “Chick and I was in the Navy together. Chick here is the head of the retired Navy guys, United States Navy Retired Activities Branch. There ain’t nothin’ he don’t know about the sea.”

Joseph folded a fried egg with his fork and dipped it into his grits. “Charlie was raised on the goat farm.” He smiled at us over his steaming coffee, his eyes watering.

A chatty fellow, Hook’s brother appeared to be enjoying our company. He waffled on, bringing us up to speed on the last fifty years of Hook family history.

“I married me a church lady. Sister Mary’s an albino but she loves people. That woman can cook. No offense Chick, but she got you beat.”

Chick pulled a fake punch at Joseph and then laughed.

“This is gonna be a big treat for her, having company to fuss over. Ever since her brother killed hisself she’s been mighty lonely.”

Joseph’s blabbering was digging into my tired brain. I wanted to tell him to stop talking but decided not to say anything. My silence might be golden or at least safer.

He turned to Hook. “Didja know about that? Gus tied hisself up in rope and then rolled down the hill into the lake and drowned hisself. Left the car running ‘cause it was always so darn hard for Mary to start. He was a considerate fella.”

I eyed the exit door. We were in the middle of nowhere and running made no sense. Roger squeezed my arm as if to say it was okay.

Hook eased himself from his stool, carefully guiding his UpUGo out from under the counter.

Chick’s eyes doubled in size. “Wow. You are doing well!”

“Be right back,” Hook growled as he headed into the potty.

Joseph watched the restroom door close and then spoke quickly as if sharing a secret. “I’m so pleased my brother’s back home. I missed the little feller. When his moving van arrived, I got down on my knees and thanked the Lord. I followed the letter of his note the driver gave me. We put the van in the barn and ain’t touched it since. I imagine my brother’s got lots of memories in that there van.”

Roger and I exchanged glances, our eyeballs spinning.

“I’m sure he’s planning on sorting out the wrong he’s done. There’s been a warrant out for his life for selling his land – what he inherited from the Hook side of the family. Hooks are like Cherokees. We’re forbidden to sell our land. If Charlie can make this right, and buy back the land, he doesn’t have to be killed. He can settle down among his kin, again.”

Jaxbee leaned into the conversation. “Who has a warrant for his life?”

Joseph cupped his hand over the side of his mouth and whispered, “Family Council says a member of the Hook family has to execute him for what he done, selling the land that is our legacy.”

“Shit…” Jaxbee said. “You guys ever read the newspaper?”

The older Hook brother shook his head. “Why’d we want to go and ruin a perfectly good day by reading ‘bout wars and crooks? Ain’t no good ever come from knowing that stuff. I don’t think I’ve seen a newspaper since the day they shot John Kennedy.” He downed the last of his coffee.

Hook returned just as we all finished eating. He threw a wad of money on the counter.

Chick pitched it back at him. “Your money’s no good here.” He laughed.

Back in the pickup, Hook seemed to loosen up. He smiled twice at Joseph and once at Jaxbee. He laughed quietly at one of Joseph’s tall tales.

My mind was working overtime trying to figure how this backwoods Hook got to Wall Street. Who vouched for him, and where’d he get his startup money?

Driving and talking to the backseat didn’t seem to slow Joseph. I was center back, so he directed most of his over-the-shoulder chatter to me. He was giving a tour and enjoying it.

We came barreling through another town. I could tell because the signage got more intimate –
Pepperoni Pizza/Dentures and Partials.
I elbowed Roger and nodded at the sign. We muffled a laugh and it came out as twin snorts.

“Getting too much wind back there?” Joseph asked.

“No!” we answered in unison. The gritty breeze was the only thing keeping the wet dog stench tamped down.

 “Sorry about the smell. I use the truck to haul goats. Sometimes them baby goats need to be inside the cab.”

More road signs. This time directions: Cherry Log, Swamp Creek.

“Won’t be long now. We’re gettin’ there. Got a surprise for Charlie.”

“You know better than that,” Hook said.

Joseph winked at me. “He never did take to surprises,”

More miles. More bumps. I leaned against Roger till I had a kink in my neck.

Jaxbee continued her quiet chant….
nuts, nuts, nuts
.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Surprise!”

And it was. Not sure who jumped higher… Hook or me.

“It’s a Prodigal Party,” Joseph said. “Just like in the Bible. We’re celebrating the return of the youngest son. Wish Daddy was alive to see this. If he hadn’t tried to carry off that bear cub, he’d sure be happy to see this day. My little brother’s returned for his redemption!” We were in the community hall surrounded by dozens of happy Hook cousins.

They were an odd assortment, no two alike and yet identical. The men were all lean and clean-shaven with dark hair and skin like dried apples. Most were dressed in jeans or bib overalls; a few wore golf shirts. The women were thin to almost anorexic, with pale skin and hair pulled back in buns. They were all in light blue dresses with stiff white collars and broomstick skirts. The youngest cousin had to be in his fifties, and the oldest was probably on the other side of one hundred.