Family Thang (30 page)

Ruth Ann’s expression shifted from shock to anger. In all these years, Lester had never talked to her like this, had never mentioned Shane’s name, not once. If he’d doubted Shane’s paternity, why hadn’t he said so a long time ago?

“No need of looking at me like I’m crazy, Ruth Ann. You know damn well I’m not his father. More shit you threw in my face and expected me to overlook. I did. Now the charade is over.”

Lester got to his feet. “Part of this is my fault--I never should’ve allowed it to go on this long. This time, however, I’m not hurting myself. Not this time, Ruth Ann. Though I can’t guarantee I won’t hurt you. If I were you I’d be out of here before I come back, which should be in five minutes…or less.” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Ruth Ann crawled out from under the bed before the sound of his footsteps faded down the hallway. She snatched a pillowcase off a pillow…
Where my keys?
…She stuffed an assortment of bras, socks and panties into the pillowcase.

Shit! Keys and cell phone on the cabinet in the kitchen
. She was headed to her closet when she heard footsteps in the hallway. Without hesitation she rushed to the window, threw the pillowcase to the ground and dove out behind it.

Chapter 26

Sheriff Bledsoe poked his solar plexus with four fingers, hoping to ease the rumbling in his gut. If the commotion held in one spot, he could deal with it. It didn’t. It erupted in his gut, spewed poisonous, burning gas into his chest, throat and sinuses.

Before Shirley smashed his polygraph machine, the eruptions were sporadic, three or four times a day at the most. Now his innards were churning out large quantities of toxic material by the hour. At this rate, an EPA inspector would soon knock on his door with a citation.

And the pain! Gut-wrenching pain! Eyes-watering pain! Tongue-biting pain! Doubling-over-in-public pain! Am-I-having-a-heart-attack pain?

But no more. Today he was taking matters in his own hands. Why suffer when relief was right around the corner? Or, in his case, in the adjacent county, Drew County, where he’d made an appointment with Doctor Cobb, the only gastroenterologist in a fifty-mile radius.

After Doctor Cobb’s secretary told him that she could squeeze him in as a walk-in at four o’clock, Sheriff Bledsoe ran to his cruiser. Emergency lights flashing, sirens wailing, he sped down Highway 82, eighty-…ninety-…one hundred-miles-per-hour…It was a quarter till four. At one hundred-miles-per-hour he would arrive at the doctor’s office with minutes to spare.

Yes indeed, relief was less than twenty miles away. Doctor Cobb, he hoped, would prescribe the purple pill he’d seen advertised on television. He couldn’t remember the name, but the commercial, where several people stood next to a bubbling lava pool agonizing they weren’t made aware of the pill earlier, replayed in his mind.

Apparently acid indigestion was serious business.

He flew past a hitchhiker walking east, back to town. He looked in the rearview mirror and slow
ed down…A female in her pajamas
carrying a pillowcase.

A nutcase.

Only a nutcase would hitchhike in this heat. Leave her be, the pain in his stomach told him. She’d be nearing town when he got back from his appointment.

“Fiddle faddle!” he cursed, bringing the cruiser to a stop. When he drove back, the hitchhiker was sitting in the shade of a sycamore tree, inspecting her feet. He exited the cruiser and approached her with a hand on his weapon. Closer, he saw blisters on her feet. Her hair and the Bugs Bunny pajamas she had on dripped sweat.

“Excuse me, Ma’am.”

Ruth Ann looked up. “Hello, Sheriff. Mighty hot out here, ain’t it?”

“Ruth Ann,” astonished. “What you doing out here?”

“Sitting in the shade for a spell. Asphalt hot enough to cook an egg.”

“Yes, it is.” He remembered his talk with Shirley. “Did you and Lester have a fight?”

“No, no, no. I decided to take a walk. To keep up circulation.”

“Barefoot? In your jammies?”

“Don’t knock it, they keep you cool.”

“What’s in the pillowcase?”

“Just a few things I’m donating to Goodwill.”

He extended a hand. “C’mon. We’ll sort this out in the car before one of us have a heatstroke.”

Ruth Ann gimped to the cruiser. “I’m glad you stopped. You’d be surprised the number of people slow down, look at you crazy and keep going.” She got into the backseat and fanned herself with her hands. “Man, this air feels good!”

“You want me to take you home?”

“No, no, no! Let me cool off a few minutes and I’ll be on my way.”

“You know I’m not letting you walk the highway. Anywhere else you’d like to go?”

“Now is a good time as any to get your polygraph test over and done with.”

Sheriff Bledsoe suppressed a burp. “On hold right now. Problems with the machine. Tell the truth, did you and Lester get into a fight?”

“No, Sheriff. I’ve told you already we didn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You were taking a walk to improve circulation, no shoes, the hottest day of the year, and you have a new Expedition parked in the driveway. You keep lying to me we’ll go have a little talk with Lester.”

“We had an argument. Lester didn’t hit me.”

“He wouldn’t let you get your shoes?”

“I’m sure he would have. I just, you know, I just wanted to leave. Didn’t think to get my shoes.”

“Legally speaking, you and he are married, what’s his is yours and yours is his. If you want to go back and get some of your stuff, you’re within your legal rights. I’ll go with you, make sure everything is peaceful.”

“No thanks, Sheriff. Very nice of you, but I’d rather not.”

Sheriff Bledsoe started to speak when a black Dodge Ram stopped directly behind them. “Speak of the devil.” 

Lester exited the truck, an overstuffed plastic garbage bag in each hand, and approached the cruiser.

Sheriff Bledsoe got out to intercept him. “How you doing, Lester?” 

“Here’s some more of her shit!” Lester said, throwing the bags to the ground, huffing and puffing as if he’d run a marathon. “Everything else b-b-b-belongs…” He started sniffling like a cat trying to dislodge a fur ball, and then he let loose, crying loudly and miserably. “…b-b-b-b-belongs to me!”

“Hold on now, Lester.”

Lester pointed at Ruth Ann, staring at them through the back window, wide-eyed.

“Did you use a rubber?” Lester shouted at her. “Did you use a damn rubber?”

Ruth Ann quickly turned face front in her seat. Lester charged for the car. Sheriff Bledsoe grabbed him by the waist just as he was reaching for the door handle.

“Lester! Lester! Lester!” Sheriff Bledsoe clamped him in a headlock. “Lester, calm down!”

“Okayokayokay, Sheriff!”

“I’m going to let you go. If you try it again I’m going to arrest you. You understand?” He released him. “Are you okay?”

Still crying: “I’ve been scratching ever since she left. Ask her did they use a rubber. Tell her I want my momma’s ring back, too. She ain’t worthy of it!”

“Lester, you’re working yourself in a frenzy. Calm down.”

“She ain’t no good, Sheriff! Fucking that sorry, no-good Eric Barnes!” Hyperventilating: “I know she has a damn coochie disease! Ask her did he use a rubber.”

“By God, Lester! Calm down! The first thing you need to do is calm down. Take a deep breath and hold it, okay? Do that for me, please.”

Lester held his breath for a split second and exhaled nasally.

“Now don’t you feel better?” Sheriff Bledsoe said, though Lester continued crying, snot and tears flowing at an even pace. “Whatever she did it’s not worth losing control over, is it?”

Lester strained to respond, couldn’t, hiccupping and crying.

Sheriff Bledsoe patted his back. “This is going to take time, Lester. Try not to--” Before he could finish, Lester bear hugged him, crying on his shoulder. A wet sensation spread down his back.

“S-s-s-sh-sh-sh-she…d-d-
did me…w-r-r-r-rong….S-s-s-s-sh-sh-sheriff!”

My God! My dear God!

If only he’d followed his first mind and kept going. Someone would’ve stopped and given Ruth Ann a ride into town. This very minute he should have been walking into a drugstore with the prescription for the purple pill in hand. He glanced at his wristwatch. A quarter after four.
Geez!

“Lester…Lester, why don’t you go home and rest up. Later on, after you’ve relaxed a bit, call someone, a relative, your pastor, one of your friends.”

Lester continued crying.

What if, Sheriff Bledsoe thought, a state trooper drove up?
And here I am on the highway letting a man cry on my shoulder.

A trucker drove by in the opposite lane to avoid coming too close to the vehicles on the shoulder, rubber-necking, a curious look on his face.

Sheriff Bledsoe pried Lester’s arms loose. “Go home, Lester. Go home, take a hot bath and relax. In a few days this won’t seem the end of the world.”

Lester wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry, Sheriff. Dirty bitch brings out the worst in me.”

“No need for name-calling. Just go home and relax, for Pete’s sake. All right? If you think about doing something crazy, call me first. Understand?”

Lester nodded and pressed two fingers against his right nostril and blew phlegm to the pavement. “O-okay, Sheriff, I will,” extending the same hand he’d used to blow his nose.

Sheriff Bledsoe declined the shake. “Just go home, Lester. Don’t forget what I told you.”

Lester stared malevolently at the back of Ruth Ann’s head, then got into his truck and drove off.

“You think he’ll be all right?” Ruth Ann asked the moment Sheriff Bledsoe got into the cruiser.

“I hope so. He’s pretty tore up now. Does he have anyone he can commiserate with?”

“His mother and his sister. I doubt if he’ll talk to them, though.”

Sheriff Bledsoe pulled the stick into drive. “I’ll check on him later. Where do you want me to drop you off?”

“My mother’s. Sheriff, don’t forget my stuff. My pillowcase, too.” He pushed the stick back
in
to park and started out to retrieve her belongings. “One other thing, Sheriff?”

“What?”

“You got snot all over the back of your shirt.”

He got out, slamming the door behind him, wondering would he dishonor his badge if he kicked her out and made her walk.