It's Not Like I Knew Her (38 page)

“Was there ever any truth to the two of you planning to run off together?”

“No, there was never such plan as that.”

“When she left me at Aunt Pearl's, I don't think she ever meant to come back.”

“About that, I can't say. But I do know your mama loved you. You were never the reason she left.”

“Why did you? Come for me, I mean.”

“You were innocent—and I never meant a stranger should raise you. You don't look like her. Too much like me. …” He drifted a bit. “… had that smooth skin the color of fool's gold, that hair blacker than chimney soot. A pureness with a song that put larks to shame.” His voice held a dreamlike quality, barely audible. “Then, you've got gumption neither of us had. You'll be fine.”

“I'm sorry about all those cards I never sent. I was too ashamed of the way I left.”

“Never missed cards.”

“Red, there's something else.”

“No, Jodie. I know everything I need to know.” He raised his hand and pointed toward the dresser. “You might want to take those papers with you when you go.” His hand dropped back onto his chest.

She picked up four sheets of paper and a padded folder. Written in his hand were her complete game statistics for four seasons of high school basketball. The folder held her high school diploma. She turned to thank him, but he either slept or pretended. She straightened the tangled covers for the last time, and when she was ready, she pulled the door closed behind her.

She went to bed early, determined to get the sleep she'd need for a long drive, only to be awakened by the roar of the wrecker on the road. She dressed and went to stand on the porch, listening as Silas dropped the Dodge. Leaving the wrecker at the far end of the lane, he drove the Dodge into the yard. She stepped off the porch and went to meet him.

“Didn't plan on waking you. But now that you're up …” He grinned.

He climbed onto the car and sat on its roof, his feet dangling. He pulled a bottle from his back pocket, and after she'd settled next to him, he passed it to her.

He rapped the roof with his knuckles. “You don't have to worry about getting stranded. This old gal's solid.”

“I'm not worried. With any luck at all I'll drive her back in one of those little skimpy uniforms.”

“You just might at that.” He passed the bottle, and after they'd downed nearly half, she asked if he was drunk.

“Not yet. How ‘bout you?”

“About the same.” She moved closer to him.

He reached and gently pulled her down to lie next to him, and they each studied the starlit sky.

“Remember the summer we counted fourteen shooting stars and decided it had to be a world's record?” He smiled at what she believed was his memory of their shared innocence, the ease of it.

“Yep, and you were so sure, you wrote it up and sent it off to the
Grit
newspaper.”

“I was naïve enough to think it would result in a miracle and I'd get a free ride to the university.”

He'd gone to the mailbox every day that summer.

“Got little time for stargazing now days. But I think about it. The closest I come is the bits of poetry I read now and again. A lady poet wrote that love is love, and it doesn't need to make sense. What do you think?”

“A good woman once told me as much. If she's not altogether right, then she's real close.” Tears ran along her temples, and she didn't feel to hide them.

“The woman I talked to yesterday? Crystal Ann, I think she said.” He didn't look at her, and while his question was awkward, it was all right that he asked. They'd both need practice at honesty.

“Yeah. In Mobile. Think I'll start there. But first I'll make a quick stop at Mr. Samuel's place. Settle one last thing before heading out.”

“Can't hurt.”

He climbed down from the rooftop and pulled her to her feet. They held each other for all the right reasons, and then he let go.

She understood that he wished they could go back to the way he'd believed things were. But Jodie Taylor was right where she lived and breathed, and welcomed her tomorrows.

At dawn, after only a few more hours of sleep, Jodie took her suitcase in hand and stopped at Red's door. She listened to the sound of his steady breathing, and Buster raised his head, blinked, and resettled. She was content, believing that Red and Buster were to live out the remainder of their days together in this place.

On the passenger seat of the Dodge, Silas had left ten twenties stuffed into an envelope, along with a brief note that wished her a good life. On the dash, he'd placed a fistful of wildflowers.

Turning west, Jodie glanced back at the old house, awash in the radiant colors of the new day, and somewhere Jewel Taylor was smiling.

Pat Spears's debut novel,
Dream Chaser
, was released in August 2014 by Twisted Road Publications. She has been nominated for a United States Artist Grant, and her short stories have appeared in numerous journals, including the
North American Review, Appalachian Heritage, Seven Hills Review
, and anthologies titled
Law and Disorder
from Main Street Rag,
Bridges and Borders
from Jane's Stories Press and
Saints and Sinners: New Fiction from the Festival 2012.
Her short story “Stranger At My Door” received honorable mention in the 2013 Lorian Hemingway Short Story competition and “Whelping” was a finalist for the Rash Award and appears in the 2014 issue of
Broad River Review.

Pat is a sixth generation Floridian who lives in Tallahassee, Florida. For more about Pat and her work, visit her website:
www.patspears.com
, or find her on Facebook at
www.facebook.com/pfspears

I wish to thank my first readers for their astute insights and invaluable feedback on the manuscript: Sally Bellerose, Tricia Booker, Margie Craig, Connie May Fowler, Darlyn Finch Kuhn, Gale Massey, Donna Meredith, Lorin Oberweger, Amanda Silva, and Vickie Weaver. Each of you embraced the novel's protagonist, Jodie Taylor, and her sometimes dark, but always hopeful journey to self-discovery, thus encouraging me to tell her story from the heart.

A deeply felt thank you to Connie May Fowler, author and teacher extraordinaire, and to a special community of fellow writers for their gracious and enthusiastic support: Alex Dunlop, Karen K Becker, Debra Exum, Victor Hess, Bonnie Omer Johnson, Nancy Levine, John Macilroy, Diane Marshall, Rosemary Porto, Sheila Stuewe and Emily Webber.

Thanks to Dorothy Allison for her gift of friendship and encouragement over the long years it has taken to breathe life into this novel and a special thank you to Joan Leggitt, for her unyielding faith in this story and my ability to tell it honestly.

“Fine, damn fine. And at times simply stunning!”
- Dorothy Allison
, author of National Book Award finalist
Bastard Out of Carolina

“An extraordinarily well written and original novel, “Dream Chaser” clearly documents author Pat Spears as a talented and imaginative wordsmith. With its deftly crafted characters and a riveting storyline from beginning to end, “Dream Chaser” is highly recommended.” –
Midwest Book Review

“Spears' ability to endear us to such flawed characters speaks to a rare, gifted view of humanity.” –
Tricia Booker
,
My Left Hook

“… a real accomplishment … [Dream Chaser] is a powerful and beautiful book.” -
Sean Carswell
, author of
Madhouse Fog

“Spears has a remarkable gift of taking the kind of rundown man we'd shake our heads over … and painting his humanity with such tenderness we want to rush up to the next down-on-his-luck stranger we see and offer a hug and assistance.” –
Southern Literary Review

“… readers will cheer Jesse's misguided efforts to salvage his life and win over his children. Pat Spears has created a realistic and hopeful story of a father's love and a family's hard-won salvation.
Dream Chaser
is a novel to relish and ponder, and the characters will stick with a reader long after the final pages.” -
Tallahassee Democrat