Georgia Bottoms (15 page)

“Hey, this is Georgia Bottoms, may I speak with Miz Eugenia Jordan, please?”

Of course she knew she was speaking with Eugenia, but with
old folks you can’t take shortcuts on the courtesy. All they have is time to sit around reflecting on the miserable failings of youth.

“This is Eugenia,” said the quavery lady. You-JIN-ya. “Who is it again?”

“It’s Georgia Bottoms. In Six Points.”

“I’m sorry, baby, I can’t hear you. Let me turn down this noise.”

Eugenia set the phone down. The TV was so loud Georgia could hear Regis Philbin saying “That’s ridiculous!” and the audience laughing. The sound switched off. Georgia was thinking how long it had been since she knew anyone with a TV you had to get out of a chair to turn off.

“Now!” the lady said. “Who did you say it was?”

Patiently Georgia explained, and this time Mrs. Jordan said, “Oh hello there, how are you, baby? How you doin’? I can’t believe you got my letter that quick.”

“It came today,” Georgia said. “I’m calling you as soon as I got it.”

Eugenia said, “You know, I hear people complain about the post office, but honestly I don’t know how they do it. I only put it in the box down by the corner here in Na’walyins the day before yesterday. And they done already carried it all the way up to you?”

“Yes, that is good service, all right,” said Georgia.

“How y’all folks doing up there, y’all got you some hot weather like we got ’round here?”

Georgia settled in for a few minutes of howdying and weather comparing. After a while she saw an opening and squeezed through it: “Now Miz Jordan, reason I’m calling is, well I’m just so sorry to hear about Ree. What happened? What did she do to get put in jail?”

“I don’t rightly know. They tried to tell me what it was, but I couldn’t ever get clear on it.”

“How long is she in for?”

“Two years, they said, but might not be that long. My grandson Larue say she be out by next Easter if she don’t do nothing wrong while she in there.”

“Because I’m just one person up here, you know,” Georgia said. “I’m a single woman, pretty much unemployed at the moment,” which was technically true, “up here in Six Points looking after my mama and my brother, they’re both disabled”—Brother might as well be, for all the good he did anybody—“and I want you to know I will try to send you more money, but things are a little tough for me too at the moment.” This was a tactic she had planned in advance, the lowering of expectations.

“I understand,” said Eugenia. “I’d be mighty grateful for whatever help you could give.”

“That’s fine,” Georgia said. “Now, I did send a wire to Ree two weeks ago. Fourth Saturday of the month. Did you pick that up?”

“I went down there, had to wait a long time for the second bus… but when I got there, they said it has to be my name on the wire, not hers,” Eugenia said. “They wouldn’t give me any of it ’less you send it again with my name.”

“I will go to Western Union tomorrow and straighten that out. How long has Ree been… away?”

Eugenia didn’t know exactly. Three or four weeks.

“And how is the boy?” Georgia said.

“Beg pardon?”

“The boy,” she repeated. She had never spoken his name aloud, but that was no reason not to. “Nathan. How is he doing?”

“Aw he’s a good boy but he sho do like to eat,” Eugenia said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, you said. Is he smart, is he good in school?” Georgia was hoping he took after her in at least one respect.

“I don’t know about that,” said Eugenia. “I don’t think he been, lately.”

“He didn’t graduate?”

“Not that boy. He like to fool around too much. I told him he better straighten up and fly right or I’m gone send him up to Alabama, let you handle him. That seemed to scare him pretty good.”

“Yeah, listen, Miss Eugenia, about that… I’m not really set up to handle a boy here, what with my mother who’s disabled—and my brother is handicapped too,” Georgia said, “so whatever we do, we need to keep him living down there with you.”

“I hear you,” Eugenia said. “You don’t want him coming to town and everybody find out you got a black son, I imagine.”

“Well, that’s part of it too,” said Georgia. “I mean, it’s not like we know each other. I’ve never even seen him. Since he was born.”

“You ought to come down and visit,” said Eugenia. “He would like to meet his mama.”

“Is that what he said?”

“No, but if you had a mama, wouldn’t you want to meet her?”

“I’ve got one,” said Georgia, “and in retrospect, no.”

Whizzy jumped up in the chair beside her. Georgia stroked her ears with two fingers. Talking with Eugenia was easy. There was no judgment in her tone. Georgia couldn’t remember speaking this comfortably to a black person before. Except for Skiff, of course—which was what got her into this situation.

“You could just come for a visit,” Eugenia said. “I wouldn’t try to stick you with the boy.”

“That’s very kind of you. I’ve always dreamed about visiting New Orleans.”

“Well then you just come on down, baby,” Eugenia said. “We’ll show you how to eat. I know you gotta be skinny, Ree said you’s always a little bitty thing even when you was pregnant.”

Georgia was delighted to hear that someone described her as little bitty. “Are you kidding? I have to starve myself to keep from blowing up like a balloon.”

Eugenia laughed. “I’m more like the Goodyear blimp but who cares? My mama was big, too. Nothin’ wrong with some meat on the bone.”

By the time Georgia hung up, she was certain the boy was much better off with Eugenia than he had ever been with Ree. It felt like the lifting of a load, just to know he was in better hands. Whatever extra money Georgia could send would be put to good use.

I
t took most of an hour for Shelley Grinnell at the Wee-Pak-N-Ship to straighten out the Western Union confusion and resend the money to Eugenia Jordan, with an extra fifty dollars thrown in as a sign of Georgia’s goodwill.

“What happened to the one we usually send to?” said nosy Shelley.

“That was Cousin Ree,” Georgia said, and to make her feel bad: “She passed away.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry for your loss,” Shelley said. “What happened?”

“They think it was pneumonia but don’t quote me.” When lying, it’s always best to keep the details vague so you don’t get crossed up trying to remember. “This is her mama, poor old Aunt Eugenia. I do what I can to help her get by.”

“That is so good of you, Georgia,” said Shelley.

Stepping out into the creamy April sunlight, Georgia decided to walk the long way around the square. The air was delicious, a promise of better things to come. Sometimes Belk’s changed its window displays on Tuesdays, and Hello who is this getting out of a beat-up blue Chrysler in front of Skinner Furniture?

Shiny blond movie-star hair combed up off his forehead in an
old-fashioned Cary Grant wave. Pale green double-breasted suit, gorgeous emerald tie, the same expensive green as his eyes. An honest to God dimple in his chin, a face chiseled like the men in those old-fashioned ads for Arrow shirts.

He was young and strong, maybe thirty. If she hadn’t seen him getting out of that battered K car, Georgia might have suspected him of being an actual movie star on the streets of Six Points.

She had a good ten seconds to look him over while he was closing his car door and stepping up to the sidewalk. Big rangy rack of a guy. Great big hands. Wide linebacker shoulders, tapering down to slim hips. That was not an expensive suit but he filled it out nicely.

Oh dear, what is that glint on the left hand? Is that a simple band of gold? Yes indeed.

Georgia sucked in her tummy and walked by. She could feel his eyes raking her over. She hadn’t been so effectively felt up by a pair of eyes in a while. At the last possible moment, she turned to confront him in the act of watching her. His eyes gleamed—something animal there. “Morning,” she sang, sailing past.

She sashayed all the way down the block into Ryan’s Drugs without looking back. She knew he was watching her—she could feel his hot gaze on her rear end—but she would not give him the satisfaction of turning around.

The bell jingled on the door. Here was Sally Cranford with her bright smile and elegant, prematurely white hair. Sally had worked at Ryan’s since she and Georgia were girls. She knew how to treat her best cosmetics customer; she always called Georgia to let her know when the new lipsticks came in.

“Look behind me and see if you see a good-looking man,” said Georgia.

“I sure do, the new preacher, and he’s coming on a beeline for you.”

“What new preacher?”

“
Our
new preacher—didn’t you hear? And here he is now!” she said, as the bell jingled. “Hey, Reverend, my name is Sally, this here is Georgia. We’re members at your new church. Welcome to Six Points.”

“Why thank you, Miss Sally, it’s a real pleasure… And Miss Georgia, how do you do? I’ve heard about you.” His voice was thrillingly deep. It went well with that statuesque chin. Georgia felt a little light-headed, a high-pitched hiss in her ears. She shook his hand but didn’t feel a thing.

He said his name was Brent Colgate, and he was really going to enjoy ministering in a town with such pretty ladies. That sounded like something a used-car dealer might say, not the new preacher. Georgia was thinking “Brent Colgate” had the ring of a made-up name.

Preacher Eugene was never all that attractive, although Georgia had talked herself into being attracted to him. This man was almost too handsome. It was like standing next to one of those revolving spotlights at the county fair—you couldn’t look directly at it without hurting your eyes.

Brent Colgate said his last church was in a much smaller town, a wide spot in the road called Schuyler’s Creek near the Tennessee line. “Daphne and I are excited to be here in the big city, ’cause that’s how Six Points feels to us,” he said.

He seemed nice—overdressed in his green suit, perhaps, a bit floppy and eager, like a big happy puppy. His manner was endearing, slightly goofy. He said the First Baptist would be “the biggest church family we’ve ever had.” He told Sally he had come
for a tube of Pepsodent, but Georgia knew the real reason he came in: to have a look at Georgia.

Sometimes a seduction required an elaborate plan. This one appeared to be only a matter of waiting.

She pretended to study the
Ladies’ Home Journal
while he paid for his toothpaste. She wondered why someone named Brent Colgate would choose Pepsodent.

She ignored him the whole time he was in the store. She knew that would drive him crazy. A man that handsome is not used to being ignored. Sure enough, he turned around at the door and came back to the magazine rack. “So nice to meet you, Miss Georgia. Hope I’ll see you in church Sunday?”

“I hope so too.” She granted him a mysterious smile, and returned to her magazine. She didn’t glance up again until the bell ushered him out.

Sally was impressed. “Did you see how he came all the way back to say goodbye to you?”

“Did he?” Georgia shrugged. “I didn’t notice.”

“Oh, come on. You certainly did.”

“That man is too good-looking to be a preacher,” Georgia said. “Anyway, he’s way too married for me.”

Sally said he was not her cup of tea but she could see how some people might like him.

“Sally, what happened to Preacher Barker?”

“You’re slipping, you’re the one who always knows everything,” Sally said. “Heart attack. He was watching
Wheel of Fortune
. They did a quadruple bypass up at the Baptist hospital. I don’t think he’ll be back.”

Georgia chose a tube of Bright Passion lipstick, a compact of Tawny Gold face powder. When she stepped outside, the K car
was nowhere to be seen. She was relieved. If Brent Colgate had been standing by his car watching her with those animal eyes, she might have had to go directly to bed with him. Nothing wrong with that—he definitely deserved consideration for her to-do list—but it would happen at a time and place of her choosing, not because she got all worked up just by laying eyes on him.

She stood back from her car door, letting out the heat. She saw Krystal hastening down the steps of city hall. She thought it was a normal hello, but the look on Krystal’s face stopped her.

“You can’t go home right now,” Krystal said. “Come to my office.”

“What is the matter?”

“The Alabama Bureau of Investigation has gone to your house to arrest your brother.”

“Oh, God. For what?”

“It’s complicated. He won’t cooperate. He’s locked himself in your mother’s room and says he won’t come out.”

“I’d better go over there.” Georgia started for her car.

“No, Georgia—he’s threatened to blow up the house if they don’t go away and leave him alone.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Georgia said. “He can’t blow up a balloon without my help. Are you coming? Get in the car.”

Krystal got in. Georgia drove. Krystal revealed that the ABI had opened a file on Brother three years ago, at the time of his supreme court demonstration. Agents had observed him and Sims Bailey purchasing a quantity of explosive material, placing it in a drive-up storage locker in Alexander City. The ABI believed Brother and Sims were planning to blow up the Ten Commandments and the Supreme Court of Alabama.

“Oh for God’s sake,” said Georgia. “Like I don’t have enough on my plate? When did you hear this?”

“They called me a week ago,” Krystal said. “I was not allowed to say a word, Georgia, I’m sorry. I hope you understand.”

“Did you call Bill Allred?” The sheriff and his deputies had known Brother since he was a kid. They had seen him at his worst, plenty of times. They knew how to calm him down and get him in the back of a patrol car.

“I was trying not to make it into a big thing,” Krystal said. “I told them he’s harmless, but this ABI guy is a bit of a dick.”

“I swear to God, Krystal, I leave home for one hour and look what happens!”

“It won’t help for you to get all upset.”

“I’m gonna kill that boy,” said Georgia. “And you know Sims Bailey was right there, egging him on. I’m gonna kill both of them.”