Shades of violet, p.9
Shades of Violet, page 9
Fireman chewed. Skeptical.
“He said you told the sheriff about the bad guy—”
“Bad guy?” I interjected out of sheer orneriness. “His name was Madhawk. The one who murdered my father many years back, then knowingly took up with my mother, only to beat her to death two years ago.”
Tattoo man paused. The blonde gasped. And a chill ran through me as I looked at Jesus hanging on the cross, now pretty sure he’d have preferred a tad more convention.
“He was a bad man.” Fireman studied the tattoo on Petey’s wrist. “He cut me with a knife, and then tried to kill Bella. And…” He stopped, his gaze landing on me. “He put Meadow in the hospital.”
Everyone pivoted in my direction. Even the dog. I said nothing, afraid the words would get jumbled in my throat.
“Wow. That was brave,” Petey said sincerely. “That took a lot of courage.”
Father Patrick returned with ice-cold bottled Cokes and passed them out. Fireman twisted the top. “Yeah, I guess. But I did some bad stuff too.”
“You’re a fine young man,” the priest insisted. “All that’s been forgiven.”
Fireman scoffed. “Well, if that’s true, why doesn’t anything good ever happen to me? I never get what I want.”
The whininess in his tone sparked my annoyance. He was twelve years old. He had no idea just how cruel and disappointing life could be. I pursed my lips, bit back my irritation.
“No way?” Petey leaned in. “Are you serious? Nothing good has ever happened to you? That’s crazy! I’d be mad too.”
I could see the wheels turning inside the kid’s head, wondering what the crazy, shaggy haired man was up to. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not fair. I have to do whatever people tell me to do, and grownups”—Fireman dumped his peanuts into his Coke—“they can do whatever they want. They always get what they want. It’s not fair.”
My leg twitched as I fought the temptation to hurl back. I chugged my Coke, regretted passing on the nuts.
“I’ll tell you a secret, Fireman,” Petey said thoughtfully. “I feel like that sometimes. Like things aren’t fair. And I bet He did too.” Our gazes followed Petey’s straight down the center nave of the church and up to Jesus’s crucified body. “But you know what I do? I talk to Him. He knows about all the things I want. He understands. He knows what I worry about, and what I’m afraid of, and He understands when I’m jealous, or when I’m mad because somebody else got what I wanted.”
Fireman studied Petey.
“Yeah, it’s true. See, just because I’m a grown-up doesn’t mean everything goes my way. And just like you,” Petey continued, “sometimes, it feels like He’s not listening.”
“Right.” Fireman nodded earnestly. “Why do you keep talking to Him then?”
Petey’s striking hazel eyes brightened. “Because He’s the best friend I ever had. And He’s a lot smarter than me. You see, some of the things I want real bad, well, they aren’t so good for me.”
“Humph.”
“And you know what else?” Petey patted Fireman’s leg. “He’s always working on ways to help me. Even when I feel like He’s not listening, or like He doesn’t care, He’s always working behind the scenes. He does that for you too.”
“Why would He do that?”
“Because He loves you. And here’s the kicker––He has a way better plan for you than you do. Let me ask you this. You said you did something bad, right?”
“I set a church on fire. It was an accident, but still…”
“How much jail time did you do?”
“What?”
“A year? Two?”
“I didn’t go to jail. I just helped at the sheriff’s station, and when Luke got the fire stations built in town, I worked there.” Fireman brightened, his childhood enthusiasm momentarily overriding his resentment. “And guess what? Redflyer let me drive the big firetruck out of the garage at The Creek’s fire station.”
“That’s cool!” Petey exclaimed. “I sure wish I could do something like that. Let me ask you another question. What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“I’m gonna be a fireman. Redflyer said he can start paying me next summer, and I can get training at both the station in The Creek and the one in Shady Gully.”
“That’s awesome. I always wanted to be a fireman.”
“I don’t know. You’re kinda skinny. You gotta drag those big hoses and all.”
“True. I guess I won’t get to do that.” Petey sighed, waxing disappointed.
“But maybe you could do something else.” Fireman finished his Coke. “You should probably talk to your friend. God. Maybe there’s something you can do even though you’re skinny.”
Violet, who’d been quiet up until now, snorted.
“Maybe you’re right.” Petey nodded. “Maybe I’ll be just like you, and something I’ve done that wasn’t so good can turn into something great. Like when you set the church on fire but didn’t have to go to jail. And then, ended up getting a dream job at the fire station.”
“Yeah.” Fireman appeared reflective. “Maybe so.”
Petey glanced at me through the corner of his eye, and danged if I didn’t like the guy, even if he was Luke’s brother and Desi’s son. “I’ve got an idea. We can try it together if you want.”
Fireman nodded, clearly digging the Coke, the nuts, and his new, personal apostle.
“Maybe, if we try to find the good—even in things that don’t seem so good—we won’t feel so terrible. You want to try?”
“I don’t know. That doesn’t really make sense.”
“Think about it like this: what if we were to do something nice for someone that made us mad? Like, here’s an example.” Petey looked thoughtful. “You know how Charlie Wayne is so mad at JJ Wheeler?”
“Yeah. He’s jealous ’cause he’s stealing all his business.”
“Right. Well, imagine if Charlie Wayne cooked JJ a hamburger, and brought it over to him with a side of fries and”—Petey held up his empty bottle—“an ice-cold Coke?”
We all laughed. Even me.
“That would be really radical.” Fireman giggled.
“Why not?” Petey grinned. “Let’s be radical. We might find that the ones we’re jealous of, or who seem to have the very things we want, aren’t so bad after all. Heck, they might even have stories all their own. Stories full of unfairness and disappointments just like ours. What do you think?”
“It’s worth a try.” Fireman studied Petey for an extended moment. “I’m game.”
As the fidgety rustle of discarded nut bags marked the end of the sit down, I was shocked to find I’d lost track of time. Luke’s brother had a way about him, a humbleness I hadn’t expected.
Clearly, Fireman felt the same, as he cheerfully rose and began chasing Duchess up and down the church pews, whatever angst he’d endured over losing Bella temporarily set aside.
Once Violet moved to keep tabs on Duchess, Father Patrick’s gaze switched from Fireman to Petey. “Well done. You planted a seed. Now, to nurture it and pray it grows.”
“He’s a good kid.” Petey turned to me, as if I were Fireman’s mother. “Bella told me he watches Timothy online with Wolfheart sometimes.”
“Who?”
“Timothy. The pastor at North Lake Christian Church in Kentucky.”
“Oh,” I muttered. “Right.” Tiger. Trey. Turk. Whatever.
“I think he’ll get a kick out of meeting him in person. He’s way better at this than me.”
“You did splendidly, Petey. Don’t sell yourself short.” Father Patrick added bashfully, “I must confess though, I’m a little star struck by the charismatic Kentucky pastor myself. I’m rather nervous to meet him.”
“He can’t wait to meet you, Father Patrick.” Petey grinned at the stout priest. “You’re one of the first ones he wants to meet when he gets here.”
“What?” I asked, finally catching on. “The TV preacher is coming here? Why in the world would he do that?”
Violet, who led the typically rowdy Duchess over at a polite trot, looked at me in surprise. “For the wedding. He’s going to marry Bella and Luke.”
“Oh. That’s right.” I nodded. “I knew that.”
My voice reeked with false bravado, and none of them would meet my eyes.
Violet left Duchess with Petey and Father Patrick, and then walked with me to my car. Her hovering made me uncomfortable, so rather than snapping at her I hollered at Fireman. “Let’s go, Little Fry. I’m late!”
I narrowed my eyes at the kid as he dilly-dallied around the basketball goal at the side of the church. I grunted, my irritation mounting.
“I remember you,” she said. “From a few years ago. After the fire. Or fires, I should say.”
I eyed her. This was a pity chat, and I was in no mood. I could care less about who was marrying Bella and Luke, or about Bella’s pretty white dress. I’d just be glad when it was over, and I could get on with my life.
“You know, weddings really aren’t my thing either.” The pale, gangly girl shuffled her feet. “I didn’t think I’d ever be able to find a bridesmaid dress, but thankfully, Bella took pity on me and said if I could find something purple, that would be okay. I ended up having a seamstress make one.”
I said nothing.
“It looks ridiculous on me, like a nightgown.” Violet laughed self-consciously. “Kind of like a grape housecoat. But Bella said it was fine.”
“I’m sure it’s lovely.” Our eyes met, and the atmosphere shifted.
Initially, I’d regarded her as a pleasant young woman. A bit too serious maybe, but full of purpose and disinclined to waste time. Or words. But now I recognized a curiosity and a depth behind her eyes that was quite enchanting. Beautiful even. It made me want to linger.
And I wasn’t a lingerer.
“The truth is,” I slowly sputtered, “I had no idea who was marrying Bella and Luke.”
Violet nodded flatly. Without judgement. Highly attentive.
I took a long, deep breath, and despite the pinpricks of warning needling across my neck, I spoke. “When Bella was young, she was my everything. I was so protective of her, so…invested in her well-being. I couldn’t imagine how I’d ever carry on when she grew up and moved away from me.”
I hesitated then, gaging Violet’s reaction, searching for the slightest hint of scorn. Or pity. When I detected none, I continued. “And then, honestly, I couldn’t even say when or how or why, just that she began to see me differently. She asked questions and when I couldn’t give her answers, she began to judge me. She became angry with me, disappointed in me, and soon, I could do nothing right.”
What on earth was I doing? Was it possible that I’d been so easily inspired—or manipulated—by the charismatic man-boy with the tattoo that I’d spew to this young woman I barely knew? Apparently. Because suddenly I desperately wanted to share my side of the story, my version of history.
“I became nothing more than a human punching bag,” I went on. “A conduit for Bella’s anger. She stopped seeing me. I literally became nothing more than a resource to supply and accommodate her basic needs.”
Violet continued to listen intently. Not a single eye roll. Not even an exasperated sigh. I realized that unlike Bella or Uncle Wolf, she wouldn’t bring our family’s convoluted history to the table, and she wouldn’t regurgitate all my past mistakes to shut me down. And more than anything, I wanted—I needed—someone to understand that I’d tried, that I’d given my daughter everything I could give…until I had nothing left to give.
“I guess at some point, I just disengaged.”
“Disengaged?” Violet’s sudden interruption, albeit a soft one, reminded me that I was indeed speaking, sharing, confessing…
“Yes,” I said. “It had become a matter of self-preservation.”
I finally stopped, suddenly loathing my vulnerability.
Despite her empathetic expression and compassionate manner, Violet was Bella’s friend. Heck, she was one of her bridesmaids.
I quickly pulled myself together, reverting to the sarcastic, generally disagreeable person I was, and I looked directly into the pale young woman’s eyes. Where I found no judgement and no condescension. Only compassion.
“Watch out!” The bounce of a basketball jolted us back to reality. Fireman pounced, snatching the ball just before it sideswiped Violet’s rear-end. “Look.” He pointed at two red pickup trucks as they pulled into the parking lot. One driven by a skinny man with spectacles, and the other by an obese man with spectacles.
We gawked as they each climbed out of their trucks and headed toward the heavy wooden doors of Sacred Heart Catholic Church.
“Is that…?” Violet squinted as the two men walked past us with their noses in the air. Not only did they refuse to speak to us, but they barely acknowledged one another.
“Yep,” I said. “That’s Jesse and James. Shady Gully’s very own Cain and Abel.”
Chapter Nine
You Are A Hick
Violet
Still reeling from Bella’s mom’s stirring remarks, I was reluctant to rush off even as the infamous Jesse and James stormed into the church.
“Go on,” Meadow insisted. “I’m late for my mail route, and I still have to drop the kid off at the Shady Gully Fire Station.”
Whether inspired by Petey’s coaching or lured by the promise of the fire station, Fireman dropped the basketball and settled himself into Meadow’s car. As I waved goodbye, I marveled at Bella’s mother, an extraordinary woman whose straightforward personality camouflaged a range of suffering.
When I entered Sacred Heart, Father Patrick and Petey lingered in the pews, their heads bent in discussion as the feuding twins approached. Upon seeing me, Duchess leapt happily and rushed past the brothers, the spicy peanut bag dangling from her jaws like a prize. She joyfully surrendered it to me, obviously pleased with herself.
“Gentleman.” Father Patrick stood, his usually cheerful demeanor forced. “I just heard about your father’s stroke. I’m terribly sorry.”
“Hey, there.” Petey offered the heavier one his hand. “I’m Peter.” While his gesture went ignored, Petey remained steadfast.
“Yeah, I know who you are. You’re Mayor Luke’s brother. I won’t hold that against you.” The man’s beady eyes sunk deeper into his face. “Or maybe I will.”
Father Patrick stiffly cleared his throat. “You remember Jesse. And this is his brother,” he indicated the skinny brother, “James.”
Despite their vastly difference carriages, I could see the similarity in Jesse and James. I vaguely remembered them from the church fires, but while James appeared much the same, Jesse had certainly…blossomed.
“Of course, I remember,” Petey said. “I guess y’all are headed to Saint John’s. How’s your dad? Any updates?”
The skinny one, James, shook his head. “No. Do you mind if we talk?” He moved to sit on a pew. “We could sure use your counsel.”
Father Patrick fussed accordingly. “Of course. Most certainly. Why don’t y’all come on back to my office?” Unlike young Fireman’s counsel, Father Patrick seemed inclined to settle these guests amid office supplies and filing cabinets.
James cut his eyes at Petey as he followed the priest. “I still recall the great fires of Shady Gully like it was yesterday, and I still remember the way your prayers touched the crowd.” James’s innocuous words didn’t quite match the sarcastic inflection in his tone, making the remark seem anything but complimentary. Undaunted, Petey glided toward the offices.
Unsure what to do with myself, I hesitated. Duchess made the decision for me when she dashed ahead of Petey and Father Patrick. She stopped at the office door, turned expectantly, and marked me with her lolling tongue. “Come on, Lady Duchess.” Father Patrick unlocked the door. “You’re welcome as well.”
“What?” Jesse huffed. “No privacy?”
“Oh no worries, Jesse, Petey is one of my staff members. I wholly trust him.” Petey’s eyes widened, apparently unaware of his new position in the Catholic Church. I felt my face flush as I still hadn’t heard Petey’s big news. Father Patrick’s comments, even if in jest, now had me curious.
“And the lovely Violet is here supervising Lady Duchess, who is doing therapy work today. So, the gang’s all here. Delightful, yes?”
“You bet.” Petey flashed Father Patrick a perceptive smile.
“Have a seat everyone.” As Father Patrick and Petey rounded up chairs, Jesse and James did their best to ignore one another. “May I offer you some refreshment?” Father Patrick asked. “At the moment we have an abundant supply of grape juice.”
I bit back a chuckle as I enjoyed the cheery priest’s humor. Duchess wagged her tail, recognizing my amusement. The subtle rattle of a secreted peanut bag drew my attention as the crafty dog settled beneath my chair.
Another one?
Petey stroked her head, playfully trying to retrieve it.
“We wanted to catch you before you saw my father,” James began. “Our sister has been with him all morning, and I fear she’s trying to persuade him against us.”
Jesse squeezed his large frame into the chair. “Ever since our mother died, Dolly babies him. With an eye to her advantage, of course. She sweet-talked him into taking control of my land on the corner of the four-way stop. That’s why we have that disgraceful man peddling fast food.”
“Conned,” James corrected. “Not sweet-talked. And the whole reason they’re in cahoots is because you refuse to sell me your land.”
“Why on earth would I do that?” Jesse sneered with outrage.
James made a big show of summoning patience. “Oh, I don’t know, perhaps because you set fire to my church.” James turned to Father Patrick. “My brother should be in jail for arson rather than getting fat on a cocktail of SSRI therapy—”
