Bone Deep (24 page)

If Andrew
had been
polite and forgiving, Mrs. Davidson more than made up for it with her
burning
glare and icy words. “Mrs. Cassidy, can I help you find anything?”

“Yes.” Sarah tried to pretend that this was a normal day. She kept her voice friendly and respectful even though she would have loved to
punch
the old busybody’s face upturned nose. “I wondered if you could order more Yardley’s soap for me.”

Mrs. Davidson folded her arms. “I don’t place special orders any more.
Ivory’s good enough for most of the folks in this town, at least the ones who don’t put on airs.
Maybe you should drive over to
Camden
or Hooperstown for it.
In fact, I think
you should buy all of your groceries there. They might have more of what you need.”

Sarah knew the woman couldn’t
outright
refuse to serve her. Or maybe she could. The store belong
ed
to the Davidsons. Sarah decided to pretend she didn’t understand the
implication
. “No. That’s all right. I prefer to shop locally. I can live without any special orders,” she said pleasantly, taking a package of toilet paper from the shelf.

For a moment the storekeeper looked like she would
further
the confrontation, but instead
Mrs. Davidson
gave Tom one last contemptuous stare then sniffed and turned away.

The
quiet hum of conversation resumed, but the voices sounded strained and hushed
. Sarah smiled
at Tom, but he didn’t smile back.
It was as if someone had turned the lights out in his normally expressive eyes. No one was home. He was closed and shuttered.

When Sarah brought her purchases to the counter, there was none of the usual chatter and gossip. Mrs. Davidson tallied each item and dropped it into a paper sack like it was an affront to have touched something Sarah’s hand had touched.
“
Twenty-four dollars and thirty-eight cents,” she snapped.

Sarah took the money from her purse and paid. Tom lifted the two heavy sacks and she held the door while he carried them out. Before the door
had
closed behind them
,
the buzz of women’s voices gr
e
w
as
loud and angry as a hive of disturbed bees. She caught the words
“
perversion of nature
”
and
“sinful behavior”
and
her blood boiled.

The brief encounters at the hardware and grocery had left Sarah feeling emotionally drained. Holding
her
head high while people stared
and judged
was much harder than she
’
d imagined it would be.
She thought of Tom’s years in a sideshow, constantly whispered about and gazed at. How had he been able to bear it?

It would’ve been easy to head the
Plymouth
back to the farm, b
ut
Sarah
was determined to run all of the errands for which she
’
d come to town. At the feed and farm supply a few workers came out from the back to
watch
Tom
heft
a sack of grain on his shoulder and carr
y
it to the car. In the post office she got the fish eye from postmaster
as she mailed a letter to her sister in
California
.

A
t the library Agnes Chapman
was
sitting behind the circulation desk
. Sarah braced for her gimlet gaze of censure. But a
fter a quick glance to see who had entered her domain, the old woman turned her attention back to her work
. She
didn’t look at them again as they walked through the quiet stacks making selections. Sarah thought maybe she hadn’t been able to see
who it was
through her thick glasses.

When they brought their books to
be checked out
, Agnes studied Sarah’s library card as usual and stamped each book. Then she looked at Tom and asked, “Would you like to apply for a library card
of your own
, young man?”

He looked startled to be spoken to. “Um, no thank you.”

She pushed the
easy
reader books across the counter toward him. “Be careful with them. Don’t bend the corners and never lay an open book face down. It breaks the spine. Also, wash your hands before reading so you don’t dirty the pages.”

“Yes, ma’am
.
”
He handled
the pile of books as if they were sacred.

Agnes nodded approvingly. Before she
returned her attention to
her file tray she met Sarah’s eyes for a moment and nearly smiled.

Sarah was more shocked by Agnes Chapman’s unexpected kindness than sh
e’
d been by Mrs. Davidson’s rudeness.
People could be surprising.
It gave her hope.

As they walked down the stone steps
outside the library
, she took Tom’s free hand in hers and held it. “See. I
think i
t will be all right.”

He looked down into her face, gazing longingly at her lips as if he’d like to kiss her right
then and
there.
She was tempted to lean
in
and let him, but the eyes of the town were upon them, whether seen or unseen, and today was not the day for a public
display of affection
.

They crossed the street to where she
’
d parked the car. The old men who gathered on the benches in front of the courthouse every day to socialize were in their regular spots, but
today
they were joined by several younger men. Sarah recognized most of the men loitering near her car. There was Aaron Avery, the barber, talking to Wendell McCoy, the Baptist minister
, al
so
a couple of men who looked
as if
they were fresh from the barber’s chair. Standing in
a different
group were a couple of farmers and handyman Dick Roberts
,
already sipping from his flask
mid-
morning.

Sarah let go of Tom’s hand as they drew closer to the
loiterers
. The men weren’t exactly blocking the
ir
way, but Roberts leaned against the trunk of Sarah’s car. They
’d
have to walk around the cluster of men to get into the car.

Avery and Rev. McCoy acted as
if
they
’
d just noticed Sarah and Tom, when
she was pretty sure they’d
been watching them since they left the library.

“Mrs. Cassidy,” McCoy thundered in his rich bass voice
. He always sounded as if he was preaching from the pulpit.
“
C
ould
you
spare a moment.”

“No. Not really. I have some repair work to do at home. Someone broke my window last night.” She reached in
to
her purse and got her keys ready.

“That’s unfortunate. Young hooligans
up to hijinks
no doubt.”

“Maybe.” Sarah sensed Tom
beside her
, tense as a bowstring.

“Young people sometimes don’t know the appropriate way to approach a problem and they lash out in an unacceptable manner,” the reverend said. “Counseling sinners is best left to the clergy.”

Sarah felt the hair
on
her neck rise. Under the scrutiny of almost a dozen men, including the oldsters on the benches, she felt surrounded and trapped even though no one had made any overtly threatening moves. “Didn’t Jesus say something about letting God do the judging?”

“No one is judging, Mrs
. Cassidy.
”

“Look, let’s cut through the crap,” Dick Roberts interrupted Rev. McCoy. He pushed off the back of the car and stood on the sidewalk in front of Sarah and Tom. “It’s not the fornicatin
g
that’s the problem so far as I’m concerned. It’s that”
—
he pointed at Tom
—
“unnatural freak.”

“Brodbecks are my neighbors and I’m
as
glad as anybody
their little girl’s
all right,” one of the farmers said
.
“
B
ut that doesn’t mean I want this guy living anywhere near me or mine. He doesn’t belong here.”

Suddenly all of the men were speaking at once, everyone voicing an opinion about
extra-marital
sex, psychic abilities or tattoos. They couldn’t even agree on what to be upset about, but every man there knew that there was something
very
wrong
with Tom, and with Sarah by association.

T
he men
drew
closer
physically
, gathering around the
Plymouth
, shouting to be heard above each other,
and making it impossible for Sarah and Tom to move without bumping into someone.

Then Avery was in Sarah’s face, jabbing his finger. “My kid was with the Weiderman boys and saw everything
—
and I mean everything. It’s sick is what it is, when your kid can’t go to the local swimming hole without coming across something
obscene
like that!”

“I apologize for that. It was
very
bad judgment
on my part
and
—
” Sarah
’s apology
was drowned out by the clamoring men.

“Leave her alone.” Tom’s voice was hoarse
as h
e grabbed Sarah’s
arm
and pushed her
partway
behind him
to protect her
.
She could just see his profile as he scanned
the angry, arguing men surrounding them
. H
e looked like a cornered animal, wild-eyed and ready to claw his way free if need be.

“Slut
!
” someone yelled.

“It’s an abomination,” another voice said. “A good man like John Cassidy dies for his country and his widow takes up with some freak.”

“God
will
judge, but we must steer the wayward back onto the path of righteousness with words,” the minister brayed.

“What I want to know is what other kind of
devil
powers he has.
He’s unnatural
.”

Bodies pressed closer, the
ripe stench
of sweat and
hair pomade
nearly
choking
Sarah
.
She
was jostled against Tom, knocking him into Roberts, who pushed back. In the blink of an eye the ugly mood escalated to
physical violence
.

Tom dropped the stack of library books
and glanced at
Sarah
to make sure she
was safe. As
he turned back around
, Roberts
punched Tom in the jaw, knocking hi
s
head to the side
.
Drunken
Roberts lost his balance and
fell into Tom, bearing them both down to the sidewalk
.

Tom twisted out from under the other man’s body and leaped to his feet. Sarah caught a glimpse of his enraged
expression,
tried to reach out to
stop
him, but was pushed back by
a man in overalls.

Roberts scrambled up and took another swing at Tom. With a
wordless
cry, Tom charged the handyman, driving a shoulder into his gut and knocking him back against the
Plymouth
with a hard thud.

More bodies pushed between
Sarah
and the fighting men. She
was roughly shoved
to the back
of the crowd
until all she could see was cotton shirts sweated to
men’s backs
. She could hear the sounds of punches and grunts
as she fought to get closer to Tom. It sounded as if
more than two were involved in the fight now.

“Stop! Stop it!” She beat against the back of a man in a grimy T-shirt and suspenders. “Move! Let me through.”