Etta Mae's Worst Bad-Luck Day (26 page)

“I’ll do it!” Mrs. Springer yelled. “Gimme that thing and stand back!” She grabbed the cord and plugged it into a wall socket, looking more than happy to do it. The electric knife hummed in Granny’s hand as the double blades began sawing against each other. “Go to it, honey!”

“Mrs. Springer! Granny! No, don’t cut him!” I yelled. I could just see them both in a jail cell for the rest of their lives. “Just hold him there, Granny, I’m calling the sheriff. Don’t let him move.”

“He’s not movin’,” Mrs. Springer said, as she took a stand beside Granny and placed a Red Cross–shod foot on an especially tender spot of Roy’s anatomy. “We’ll teach him how to act around ladies. Right, Granny?”

“Damn right,” Granny said.

Keeping an eye on them so they wouldn’t do the kind of damage that would get them in the newspaper and a courtroom, I dialed 9-1-1.

Three cop cars showed up, two of which were the entire night force for Delmont. The other one came from Abbotsville. When help was needed at the Connard place, they all turned out. They came, one after the other, up the long drive into the parking area, throwing up gravel as they jerked to a stop. Leaving car doors open and blue lights flashing across the first Mrs. Connard’s garden, they ran past Emmett, guns drawn, as he held the back door open for them.

“What’s going on here? What’s the trouble?” Clyde Maybry panted, his breathing loud and rasping. Wendell and the Abbotsville officer bounced in behind him.

“Come on in, boys!” Lurline swayed, trying to focus her eyes. Then they rolled back in her head, and she kind of melted down into a chair. She slowly lowered her head to the kitchen table, and that was it. Zonked out of her mind.

Clyde looked around, his mouth falling open as he took in Granny standing over Roy, electric knife at the ready. He cringed when he noticed Mrs. Springer’s foot placement.

“Put that gun up, boy,” Granny told Clyde, “and get them cuffs out. We’re right before doing some major damage here.”

“You tell ’em, honey,” Mrs. Springer said.

Wendell holstered his gun and, stepping gingerly around Granny, quickly handcuffed Roy. “Oh, man,” Roy said to him, “I’m glad to see you. Them crazy women was about to cut me.”

Granny leaned over and got right in his face. “It’s called
gelding
for your information.”

Gladys and Jennie were still guarding Harley where he lay sprawled on the dining room floor. They bonged him with silver trays every time he twitched. He wasn’t doing a lot of it, though, since they’d already pretty much dimmed his lights.

I give Clyde credit. Not much, but some, because it didn’t take long for him to organize the arrests. And this time he got it right, leaving me alone except for a lot of frowning and shaking of his head in my direction.

I did some of that, too, as I looked around at the mess in the dining room. Cakes, with icing smushed into the Oriental rug, various silver plates and trays, and leaking cups and pitchers of punch cluttered the table and the floor. To say nothing of overturned chairs and blue-dyed carnations everywhere you looked.

Before they took Roy out, safely handcuffed, I got in his face. “Roy, listen to me and listen to me good. I don’t know where Skip Taggert is, or when, or if, he’s ever coming back. He ran out on me years ago, and he’s done it again. So, if you have tracking him down in mind, if you ever get out of this mess, don’t come looking to me. I can’t help you.”

Clyde hoisted Roy up on his tiptoes as he headed toward the door. “I don’t think you got to worry about that, Etta Mae,” he said. “These boys is three-time losers. They gonna be gone a long time.

“And speaking of that,” he went on, giving me a hard look, “I’d appreciate it if you’d take a long trip, too, and stay gone for a real long time. Maybe you can’t help it, Etta Mae, but trouble seems to pop up wherever you are. What’re you doin’ here, anyway, and what kinda blowout are you havin’ in Mr. Connard’s house? I’m gonna want some answers from you, soon as I get these assholes on the way.”

Mrs. Springer jolted upright, clearly outraged at Clyde’s language. Before she could correct him, though, Granny waved the knife in Clyde’s face and said, “Watch yore mouth, boy. I’ll plug this thing in again.”

“Disarm her,” Clyde told Wendell, with a jerk of his head toward Granny. Granny was about used up by that time, so when Wendell held out his hand, she surrendered the knife without a word. Even unplugged it for him.

Betty Sue put her arm around Granny, saying, “I’ll get her home and put her to bed. You think I ought to take Lurline, too, Etta Mae?”

“If you will,” I said, lifting Lurline’s dazed face from the table. “She’s pretty much wasted. She can get her car tomorrow.”

“Me and Gladys’ll help you, Betty Sue,” Cindy said. “If you don’t mind dropping us off. We came with Lurline.”

“That leaves me, and I’ll be going, too.” Jennie put her arm around me. “It was a great party. I don’t know when I’ve had so much fun, and put two criminals in jail, too. Look, honey, I hate to leave this mess for you to clean up. Want me to stay a while and help you?”

“I appreciate that, Jennie, but you go on home. Emmett’ll help me, or we might just leave it till tomorrow.”

“I don’t think so,” she said, looking back into the dining room. “He’s already at it.” And sure enough, Emmett was on his hands and knees, blotting up punch from the rug. “Besides, this is your wedding night, remember?”

Well, it had slipped my mind for a little while, what with all the noise and excitement. Now I began to worry about Mr. Howard, if he’d heard the commotion and was lying back there wondering if his house was still standing. The whole mess just came down on me like a ton of bricks. Here I’d wanted to show him and people like Julia Springer that there was more to me than bottle-blond hair and a perky personality, and all I’d done was confirm what they’d always thought. I could’ve cried.

Until I saw Mrs. Springer leaning against Hazel Marie with a satisfied smile on her face. “I guess we fixed their sweet patooties, didn’t we? Oh, my,” she said, reaching for the back of a chair, “I’m a little dizzy.”

“Hold on to me,” Hazel Marie said. “We need to get you home. Etta Mae, I’m just so sorry about Harley and Roy. They’re my kinfolks, you know, third cousins or something, but I wish I didn’t have to claim them.”

“Oh, Hazel Marie,” I said, “it’s not your fault. I know about family, believe me, I do.”

“Ha!” Mrs. Springer said, pulling out of her slump. “Ask
me
about family and I’ll give you an earful! Where’s Emmett? I want that recipe.”

Hazel Marie patted her on the back, saying they’d get it tomorrow, and eased her toward the front door. “Etta Mae,” she said, “we’ll just get our purses and go. I need to get Miss Julia in bed, but I want you to know that I wish you every happiness in your marriage.”

“Oh, yes, and lovely party, my dear,” Mrs. Springer said, remembering her manners, as she brushed the hair off her face. Swaying in her tracks, she tried to focus on me. “Thank you so much for having us. You must come for tea sometime soon.”

When they left, I walked out on the back stoop, watching as two cop cars followed them down the drive. Clyde’s was the only sheriff’s car left. He was half sitting in it, with the door open, talking on his handset.

Waiting for him, I crossed my arms across my chest and shivered. Not from the weather, even though there was a definite fall chill in the air, but from the thought of how I’d ruined Mr. Howard’s house, and brought a criminal element into it, too. And I’d not been in it a full twenty-four hours yet.

“Etta Mae,” Clyde said as he lumbered over to me, the gravel crunching under his boots, “Wendell tells me that you’ve gone and married Mr. Connard. That right?”

I nodded my head.

“So I guess you live here now?”

I nodded my head again.

He just shook his. “Well, I guess if you want to tear up your own husband’s house, it’s no skin off my nose. But you better watch yourself, Etta Mae, he can get rid of you as quick as he took you on. He’s got lawyers up the you-know-what.”

“Clyde . . .”

“Wait a minute.” He held a hand up. “This is just between you and me, now. I know why you married him, and I don’t guess I blame you. But he won’t be able to satisfy you, Etta Mae, and, well, I’m always around if you need anything.”

I jerked my head up like he’d slapped me. “Clyde Maybry, I’ll have you know that I am Mrs. Howard Connard, Senior, now, and you can’t talk to me that way anymore.”

He smiled, showing tiny teeth that didn’t belong in his fat face. “Don’t matter what your name is, Etta Mae. I know who you are. Just remember I’ll be around.”

“Get out of here,” I snarled. “Take your nasty self off my husband’s property and don’t come back.”

He shrugged, still smiling. But he left, and I stood there, feeling the cool mountain air on my skin and wondering if the Connard name had any meaning at all. It hadn’t to the Pucketts, and now Clyde had acted like it was nothing to him, either. So if it didn’t put me above trash like that, what was I doing with it?

I went back into the house and began helping Emmett clean and pick up the mess we’d made. I opened my mouth to apologize for bringing the Pucketts into this fine home, and for my friends getting sloshed, and for the party turning into a free-for-all, and for the way things had turned out in general.

Before I could start, though, he said, “Miss Etta, I’m real sorry ’bout all this. They come in on me ’fore I knew it, an’ knocked me windin’. Couldn’t get my breath ’fore they was in here, jumpin’ on you and yo’ lady friends.” He stood there, shaking his head. “I shoulda been on my toes better’n that.”

“Oh, Emmett, you couldn’t help it. Nobody could’ve stopped them. I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. It was me they were after—well, not me exactly. But that big ole boy I’ve been trying to hide in the floorboard of my car for two days. They were really after him, but they’ve been following me and watching Lurline’s house all this time. I’m thinking they must’ve followed her over here, hoping she’d lead them to Skip. But he’s long gone, and I hope he stays gone.

“Anyway, they’re put away, and for good, I hope. I just hope my friends will be better behaved after this, and not tear up the house like they did tonight.” I could feel tears of shame welling up in my eyes.

“Good thing they was here, Miss Etta,” Emmett said, a soft smile beginning on his face. “Boy howdy, they sho’ tore into them two, didn’t they? If it just me and you here by ourselves, no telling what might happen when them two crazy men come bustin’ in. That Miss Granny, she something else, an’ that Miss Julia Springer, she a lady an’ a half.”

I brushed at my eyes and laughed with relief. “She is that. Emmett, I better go check on Mr. Howard. No telling how upset he is.”

“I looked in on him while you was outside. He still sleepin’. Look like he didn’t hear a thing, so he all right. Now, Miss Etta, I got this rug clean, an’ I’m gonna wrap up these few cakes left over, an’ leave the rest of it till morning. I don’t us’lly do that, you know, but this a special night. So I’m jus’ gonna do that, an’ go on to my ’partment. I’ll lock the door on my way out.”

He was telling me it was time for me to go to my new husband, and he was right.

 • • • 

As he went into the kitchen and began wrapping the leftovers in Saran Wrap, I went into the drawing room and picked up my gifts. After stacking the boxes in a pile, I turned off the lamps and gathered my silk, satin, and chiffon gowns, babydoll pajamas, bikinis, thongs, and so forth to take to the bedroom, wondering if Mr. Howard was in any shape to appreciate any of them that night.

Hearing the back door close and lock as Emmett left for his apartment over the garage, I opened the door to Mr. Howard’s room. The bedside lamp was on, and Mr. Howard was sitting straight up in bed. He’d pulled himself up by the handrails. His pajama top was off, his scrawny, white-haired chest in full view.

There was a big half smile on his face, and his eyes were as bright and sparkling as I’d ever seen them.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” I think he said, along with a few other things that nobody else would’ve understood.

And, yes, in case anyone is interested, he was in shape to appreciate not only my new lingerie, but a few other things as well.

The room was so quiet that I could barely hear the squeak of rubber soles on the polished floor out in the hall and the whispered voices of nurses and doctors as they passed. Mr. Sitton had insisted that he talk to me in a private place, so they’d led me out of the waiting room to this small, dim office.

They were all gone now—Mr. Sitton, the doctor, the ambulance men, and the nurses—at least for a while, and I was left alone to gather my wits and decide what to do next.

“He didn’t have time,” Mr. Sitton had told me. “I am confident that that was what he wanted to see me about today. I know that he wanted you taken care of—he’d intimated as much on a previous occasion. As much as I’d like to reassure you on the matter, I am afraid I can’t. The way things stand now, with everything in trust, my hands are tied.”

“Emmett?” I asked, my hands knotting in my lap. “What about Emmett?”

Mr. Sitton studied me for a minute, then he said, “Emmett is taken care of. He’d been with Howard a long time, but you . . .” He sighed with what I thought might have been compassion or maybe just plain pity.

I’d shaken my head, still too stunned to take in all he was saying. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter,” he said. “And I intend to speak to Junior about it. He may feel an obligation, a moral duty so to speak, to see that something comes to you, even a small amount. Howard would’ve wanted you to have something.”

I’d looked up at him, tears blurring my eyes, and said, “There’s not a hope in hell of that. Especially if Valerie has any say in it. No, Mr. Sitton, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll just go back to my trailer and ask for my old job back. Don’t worry about me. I’ve been making it on my own long before this.”

He’d left not long after that, saying that he’d do the best he could for me if I wanted to pursue the matter. On his way out, he’d told me that Junior and Valerie were on the their way to see to the funeral. “Howard spelled it all out in his will,” he’d said. “Everything’s being taken care of.”

Without me, I thought as the door closed behind him. I sat in the large chair in the quiet office, looking at my hands, and wondering how long the hospital would let me stay there. I hated the thought of leaving, the thought of facing people who’d be laughing and whispering and watching me to see what kind of woman could get a man so hot and bothered that he’d stroke out on his wedding night.

I knew what they’d be saying and the jokes they’d make and the smirks they’d send my way.

Well, I thought, taking a deep breath, I’d come through worse, I guessed. At least I wasn’t covered with a sheet and on my way to a funeral home.

Poor old Mr. Howard, I thought, and wiped away a tear. I’d really thought I could give him a few happy years. They would’ve been happy for me, too. I wouldn’t have minded them at all. But now all our plans were dead and gone along with him. But then, as I thought about it, a smile twitched at the corner of my mouth, and I began to feel better.

I couldn’t help it, because it suddenly came to me that I
had
made him happy. Not for years, that’s true, but he’d already had a long, successful, and powerful life—a longer and better one than most people, in fact. And it’d ended with a bang.

Maybe, just maybe, if Junior had taken him to Raleigh and stuffed him away in a rest home or retirement home or nursing home or whatever, Mr. Howard would’ve lived another year or two. And been so miserable he’d’ve hated every day of it.

But this way, he’d ended his life the same way he’d lived it—in his own home, getting exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it. And what he’d wanted was me. He’d died with a smile on his face.

Even the ambulance men had mentioned it. How it looked as if he’d died happy. That’s one thing I could be proud of.

I leaned my head back on the chair, with a smile on my face, too. Mr. Howard had surprised me when I’d gone into his room not four hours before and seen him sitting there with his clothes half off, wide awake and ready for love. I hadn’t expected it, especially since he’d slept all through the afternoon and through the commotion of the party and the Pucketts crashing the party and the arrival of the deputies.

I’d intended to spend my wedding night dozing in a chair by his bed, and being there when he woke this morning. The intimacies of marriage could come in their own sweet time, whenever he felt up to them and as far as he was able to take them. It hadn’t mattered to me, one way or the other.

But there he’d been, ready, set, and aimed for what he’d been grabbing at for months and months. So, figuring that looking might be all he could manage, I’d undressed and put on Lurline’s pink chiffon babydoll pajamas with the G-string underneath. His eyes had nearly popped out of his head, and he’d practically climbed over the bedrail, half paralyzed or not.

I laughed to myself, remembering how he’d begged me to quit prancing around and come over to him. I’d lowered the bedrail on one side and climbed in. I swear, the man had strength neither he nor I had been expecting. He’d grabbed me and started kissing and rubbing his good hand all over me. Then, before I knew it, he’d rolled me over and I’d fallen out of the damn bed. We laughed, Lord, how we laughed, and I’d crawled back in, pulling the bedrail up behind me.

“Come on, you old sweet thing,” I’d said, “do your worst. You can’t kick me out of bed now.”

So, here I was, the bereaved widow sitting in a hospital waiting room after hardly any time at all of being a wife. Well, I’d been a wife plenty of times, but I mean being the second Mrs. Howard Connard, Senior.

I stood up, put on my shoes, and gathered my tote bag. I needed to get back to Mr. Howard’s house and get my things moved before Junior and Valerie showed up. The sooner I could clear out of there, the better. I didn’t want to have to face them, with them wondering just what I’d done to their old daddy to transfer him from a bed to a casket.

I would move back into my trailer, thank God for a place of my own. And thank Bernie, too, for that matter. Then I’d go to the funeral. There was no way to get out of that. Maybe I’d take Granny and Lurline with me. For support, you know. I didn’t have anything to wear to a funeral, especially since everybody would be watching me. Maybe I could go to Walmart’s late tonight and find a black outfit. I didn’t know if Kathie Lee made anything like that, she was so perky. Navy blue would do, I guessed. Anyway, going to his funeral would be the last thing I could do for Mr. Howard. I’d stand by his casket like the first Mrs. Connard would’ve done and like I knew he’d want me to. I’d drop a rose on his casket after the graveside service was over, and I’d accept the condolences of anybody who’d be nice enough to offer me some.

Should I order flowers for the service? Was the widow supposed to? I didn’t know and didn’t much care if I did what was right or not. I’d stop by Sadie’s and get a rose, and let it stand for a good old man who’d thought I was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Then I’d go home and be Etta Mae Wiggins again, just as I’d been after my other marital disappointments. The thought of Skip and his expensive promise flashed through my mind. I could’ve sure used a million dollars right about then, but I’d be a fool to pin my hopes on that and risk another kind of disappointment.

Time enough for rejoicing, if Skip really did come through. But for now, I just wanted to go home and crawl into a corner where nobody could find me.

I peeked out the door and, seeing the hall empty, slipped out and headed for the stairs. I didn’t want to see anybody, or have anybody see me.

As I pushed open the heavy fire door at the bottom of the stairs and walked out into the parking lot, I had to squinch up my eyes from the early morning sun. I’d been sitting in that dark, quiet room for so long that I’d forgotten that the sun was up and a new day had already taken off.

Walking fast with my head down, hoping nobody would recognize and stop me, I hurried to my car. I could hardly remember parking it as I’d followed the ambulance a few hours earlier.

I didn’t see him until I got to the car. He was leaning against the hood, his arms crossed, a serious look on his face. Waiting for me.

“Bobby Lee,” I said, and, not being able to help it, my voice broke on the words and tears spurted out of my eyes.

“Come here, darlin’.” His arms went around me, and I found the place that I’d always fitted into, up close to him.

I cried. I let it all out—crying about wanting so much and getting so little, about the clerk in the Register of Deeds office, and Mr. Sitton’s secretary, about Clyde and the Pucketts and sweet, dumb Skip and about being scared and not having the rent money, and about Valerie’s hateful mouth, and about Mr. Howard dying before we’d had a happy family life, and I cried because Bobby Lee had his arms around me and was whispering that I wasn’t going to get away from him this time.

“What am I gonna do with you?” he said, his mouth against my hair.

“I don’t know,” I wailed, clinging to him like he was my last hope.

“I’ve been tryin’ my best to hold on to you,” he said, one hand holding me close and the other smoothing my hair. “This time I’m not letting you out of my sight. You up for one more husband, sweetheart?”

I stopped bawling for a minute, the meaning of his words blotting out all that’d happened in the last few days. The thought of Bobby Lee as my one true and very last husband made my heart melt inside me.

“What about your windshield?” I asked, burying my face against his uniform again, soaking it good. “And Darla Davis?”

“Oh, hell,” he said, and I knew he was smiling. “You’re worth a dozen damn windshields. And who’s Darla Davis? You’re the one I’ve been tryin’ to catch.”

“You really want to get married?” I couldn’t believe how much lighter my heart was beginning to feel, even though I was still crying buckets all over him.

“I always did,” he said, holding me even closer, if that was possible. “You just kept beating me to it. Every time I thought I had you, you’d turn up with another husband.”

I started laughing, my shoulders shaking against him. I could feel him laughing with me, and hear the strong beat of his heart in his chest. I pressed my head against it, wanting to stay by that safety for the rest of my life.

Etta Mae Wiggins Taggert Whitlow Connard was about to be a thing of the past. Etta Mae Moser was a name I could live with.

“Bobby Lee?”

“What, sweetheart?”

“Can we go to Disney World on our honeymoon?”

“Anywhere you want,” he said, his familiar hands moving over my back.

“And the Magic Kingdom, too?”

“Oh, yeah,” he whispered against my hair, “and, darlin’, when we get there I’m gonna take you up one side of Space Mountain and down the other. And then I’m gonna start all over again. How does that sound?”

Like the sweetest thing in the world.