Final Justice (11 page)

Dr. Campbell shook his head. "I'm sorry, Luke, but I'm afraid it's too late. The damage is done."

Alma had already gone in his mother's room, and Luke followed, glad to see she was awake. Earlier, there had only been one IV bottle dripping a clear liquid into her veins, but now there was a second, flowing red. Dr. Campbell had explained a blood transfusion might make her feel better since she was so anemic.

Orlena managed a feeble smile as Luke took her hand, her voice thin as an eggshell when she spoke. "Oh, son, it's so good to see you... even if I did have to get sick to bring you home."

"You just get well, and I promise it won't be so long between visits anymore."

"I think I'd like it better if you just get out of the army before you get killed and come on back home where you belong. I love you, son, and I've missed you."

He had to speak around the brick again, only this time it had settled deeper in his chest. He found himself wishing men had the social freedom to cry like women to relieve the pressure, like Alma was doing, only she had turned away so Orlena wouldn't see.

It was hard, but he managed to keep his voice from cracking. "I love you, too, Momma. I always have. I just wish I could have made things easier for you."

"I wouldn't trade a minute of the time I've had with you, but I'd change how you was brought into the world if I could help it. I'd see to it folks didn't look down on you for being born like you was." A tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

He brushed it away. "None of that, you hear? If that's what it took for me to have you for a mother, it was worth it."

Alma, feeling like she was intruding, said, "I'll wait for you downstairs, Luke. Goodnight, Orlena." She kissed Orlena's cheek and hurried out.

Once they were alone, Orlena looked him straight in the eyes and said, "I want you to know I was never a whore, Luke. You have to believe that."

"God, Momma, I know that."

"I know folks said I was."

"Well, they didn't know what they were talking about. You were young. You made a mistake. You probably thought you were in love, and..."

"I never told you I loved nobody," she cut him off. "I never told you anything. And you knew better than to ask questions after that time you came home from school when you were in the third grade crying and wanting to know what a bastard was. I told you, and then you went back and beat up the kid that called you one. That's why I never told you how it happened, how you came to be. I was scared you'd kill somebody, but maybe I should have. Maybe I should've let you take the revenge I couldn't, and then I wouldn't have had to drink so much to keep from thinking about it and wouldn't be here in the shape I'm in, and..."

She began to cough, hard, husky, and then the wheezing began as she lost her breath, and her head lolled back as a terrified look came over her face.

Luke mashed the call button and within seconds a nurse swished into the room. She took one look at Orlena and ran for the oxygen tank that stood in a corner and quickly rolled it to the bed. Barking instructions to Luke, they had the plastic tent spread in no time, covering Orlena from head to waist. The nurse went to get medication, though Orlena seemed to be resting comfortably as she breathed in the oxygen.

"She'll sleep now," the nurse said as she injected Orlena with a sedative. "You might as well go. We'll call if there's any change."

But Luke made no move to leave right away, for his mind was whirling to wonder what his mother had been about to say. Never before, even in her darkest moments of despair and disappointment, had he heard her speak of retribution against his father. And now he burned to know why.

* * *

It was dark when Luke and Alma got home, and everything seemed quiet.

"It's because you're here," Alma said. "Junior is scared you'll make trouble."

Luke went straight to the refrigerator. "No beer?" He scanned the shelves.

"Afraid not."

"I'll go get some. Maybe I'll stop by the Comet and see if any of the guys are around." The Comet was a drive-in cafe on the Birmingham highway, where he could usually find some of his old high school buddies, like Matt Rumsey. Matt hated his job at the mill, didn't get along with his wife, so he hung out at the Comet.

At the front door, Alma positioned herself in front of him. "Don't go."

He lifted a brow. "You scared to stay by yourself?"

"It's not that." She took a deep breath, then slipped her arms around his neck and pressed against him. "I want you to take me to bed."

For an instant, Luke thought he hadn't heard right, but then she squeezed his crotch.
"Now,
Luke. Let's go to bed
now."

Hell, he was only human, and she got results the way she was rubbing him. He felt himself getting hard. She felt it, too, and began trying to pump him up and down through his trousers.

He unzipped his fly. "It's easier this way."

His swollen penis leaped into her hand, and she drew back for an instant, startled. She hadn't felt a man's thing since Jimmy Tate. The few times she and Luke had had sex, she hadn't touched him, hadn't wanted to, didn't want to now, and wouldn't if not for wanting to hang on to her marriage. She pulled him into the bedroom by his erection, and he laughed and did not protest.

He took off his clothes. She took off hers. They laid down side by side, and he thought of Coquina, his Mexican girlfriend waiting back in California. She always put on a show for him when she undressed, playing music on the radio while she stripped like a pro. Maybe she was. He didn't know and hadn't asked, but it made him crazy to watch her.

"Still got your diaphragm?" he asked, not wanting to take any chances.

She nodded and went to put it in while he waited and wondered what was going on, but it didn't take much to figure out she was worried about what would happen to their marriage if his mother died. Alma's way of thinking was just like all women of her upbringing: any man was better than no man at all. She didn't want to face being a divorcee with a kid to raise all by herself in a jerkwater town like Hampton, Alabama.

It was over quick, with Alma as lifeless as a store mannequin. Afterward, he got up to take a shower, but she padded after him, the sheet wrapped around her.

"Luke, we need to talk. I've been thinking about us and how we could really have a good life together if we tried. I mean, we have got a daughter, and..."

The sound of the water running drowned her out, but she was waiting to start in again as soon as he finished.

"I'm going to make us some hot cocoa, and we can have a nice talk about where we're going to move. I was thinking we could maybe buy a house out in the country. Tammy would like that, and your momma would, too. She's always said she wished she had a garden."

He pulled on his pants and yanked on a shirt. "She isn't going to live that long, and you know it."

"But there's still the three of us, Luke."

"You know I hate this place."

"But it's your home."

"No, it isn't. And when my mother dies, I am never coming back."

"But what about us?"

He was almost to the door but whirled around to challenge, "Yeah, what about us, Alma? Do you want to move to California? 'Cause that's where I plan to live. I'll take you and Tammy with me if you want to go, because it's my duty. But you and I both know this marriage stinks and always has."

Her eyes narrowed. "But I don't want to move, and your place is here with me and Tammy."

He could tell she was getting mad, and he didn't want to fight. "We'll talk later."

She ran behind him. "No, we're going to settle things right now. Your taking me to bed proves you still want me, Luke."

"It proves I'm a man, and you made me horny."

"You can't divorce me," she screamed from the open front door. "I won't let you, damn you. Now you get your ass back in here. You aren't running off to hang out all night drinking with your white trash buddies."

He turned to look at her incredulously. "Alma, have you lost your mind? Everybody can hear you, yelling like a fish wife. Get back in the house." In the glow of the yellow bug light hanging from a frayed cord, she did look insane, eyes wild and bulging.

She took tiny running steps towards the edge of the porch to continue her tirade. "After what I just did for you, you owe me, damn you. Now get in here."

"What you just did for me?" He echoed with a shake of his head. Maybe she really was crazy. They had had sex for the first time in years, and now she thought he owed her. "Go ahead and yell for the whole damn county to hear. I don't care." He hurried toward the car.

She ran down the steps, struggling to keep the sheet wrapped around her. "Did you hear what I said? You aren't going out drinking. Your momma's in the hospital. It isn't proper."

According to Alma, nothing he ever did was proper. She let him know that every time he came home, so to avoid trouble, he'd learned through the years to just keep his mouth shut and count the days till he could leave again.

He had the car door open and was almost inside when she threw herself at him and began to pummel his chest with her fists. "You bastard. I hate you."

Bastard.

God, he hated the word that was so easily flung by people in anger. Maybe it wasn't meant to be taken literally, just an ugly name. But in his case, it was so.

He
was
a bastard, and it really pissed him off when anybody called him one, and if he hadn't been raised to believe every southern male was supposed to act like Ashley Wilkes, he'd have busted Alma in the mouth then and there. Instead, he yanked away her sheet.

Horrified to be standing there naked where someone might see, she turned and ran up on the porch. Just before Luke drove away, he heard her shout, "I never loved you, Luke Ballard. Never. And I wouldn't have married you if I didn't have to. Go to hell, you
bastard, bastard, bastard..."

He drove like a bat out of hell, not slowing till he swerved into the Comet's parking lot, gravel flying as he skidded to a stop next to Matt Rumsey.

Wanda Potts, one of the curb girls, was hanging on the side of Matt's car. "Lord almighty, who's that crazy fool? He almost hit me."

Matt scrambled out to greet Luke. "Good to see you, man. When did you get in? Why didn't you call me? Hey, I'm sorry about your momma. I heard she wasn't doing good. Can I do anything? Let me buy you a beer. Wanna go inside?"

"Out here is fine. Get in. Good to see you, too."

Wanda took their orders, then Matt introduced her to Luke. Between loud pops of her chewing gum, she acknowledged, "I've heard of you. You're the big war hero. And you were captain of the football team back in '56. I remember 'cause I was a cheerleader for Alex City, and when we played y'all, all the girls were talking about how cute you were. Still are." She winked and walked away, hips swinging in skin-tight jeans.

"You screwing her?" Luke asked, watching every wiggle.

Matt laughed, "Yeah, but it don't matter if you'd like to tap it. She's got enough for two."

"She had on a wedding ring."

"Makes it safe, 'cause she's tied down, too. I never mess with a single girl. They make noises about me getting a divorce and marrying them, and I say no way,
Ho-zay.
If I ever get unhitched, I'll stay that way. Now tell me about your momma. How's she doing?"

"I guess she's holding her own right now." Not wanting to talk about it, he abruptly changed the subject. "I want to hear about the sheriff."

Matt grinned. "Figured you would. It's all over town about your run-in with Howie this morning, or, as he's better known—
Barney Fife."

"Why? Barney never picks on little colored girls."

"True, and Andy Taylor is no Bo Grady, either. But lots of things have changed since Bo got elected, Luke, and none of them for the good. Bo hates coloreds, and ever since that civil rights march in Selma last spring, he's vowed the ones in Buford County will stay in their place or wish they had."

"And have they?"

"Yep, 'cause Bo and his deputies knock heads to make sure they do. But there's other stuff going on, too, like at Junior's place. You've probably already seen that, though, like how he's selling moonshine. Beer and wine ain't enough. He's got to deal in the hard stuff. And he's got prostitutes working. Then there's the gambling. Hell, it's even rumored he's got cockfights going on in the woods out back sometimes."

Wanda brought their beers and an order of fries, which she said was a welcome home present to Luke from her. She flirted a few minutes, then got the message she wasn't wanted and left.

"Well, he'll probably be voted out next election," Luke said. "Let's hope so, anyway."

"Don't bet on it. Nobody's got the balls to run against him."

"Including you?"

Matt hooted. "Hey, man, all I've done since high school is work at the mill. I don't have the experience needed to be a sheriff."

"And what kind of experience did Grady have?"

"He's a Korean vet, and he bragged about being in the military police before the army stuck him in some special unit overseas. Besides, folks were ready for a change. Seemed like old Jesse Peagrover had been in office since World War II and he was ready to retire. So he didn't put up a fight. Bo slipped right in, and he's here to stay unless somebody is willing to go up against him.