Reason Is You (9781101576151) (6 page)

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s a lot of work.”

He adjusted his hat. “People pay a lot of money.”

We hit every possible cut and cove and sandbar on the north end of the pass. Jiminy didn’t say anything else, but he drove slower and closer to shore. I loved him for that.

We saw Bessie Heights, Stutes Island, Coffee Ground Cove, among others. I knew them all, since they were on our end and accessible by land—sort of. Some of them were swampy. Saw a cute little houseboat docked right around the cove from my dad’s house. Then what was left of Coffee Ground Cove, which was my hiding place when I was a kid. It had an old abandoned dock and low-hanging trees, and I could disappear in there and pretend the world was beautiful.

He told me what fish were where and why. Where the ridges were and where the breeding happened, and why the tides were important. He made me cast a couple of times, I guess to prove I could, and actually looked impressed that I remembered the big alligator that once resided in the second cut of Bessie Heights.

“I named him Herman Munster when I was little.”

He chuckled and then looked back at me again. “Sounds like something your mother would say.”

I almost fell out of the boat. “What?”

He nodded, still looking amused. “You’re Nadine, made over. Look and talk just like her.”

My fingers went numb. “You knew my mother?”

“Went to school together.”

“So did my dad.”

“Yep.”

I was amazed. “What was she like?”

Jiminy flipped over a laminated map and studied it, then grinned up at me. “I’m sure your dad’s told you all that, girl.”

I shook my head. “I mean from someone else’s point of view. What do you remember about her?”

His face got a faraway happy look as he looked away. “Her laugh. It was infectious.”

There was a moment when the only sound was the water lapping the sides of the boat and a nearby frog doing a throaty warble. Then he came back to the present.

He gestured toward the steering wheel. “Can you drive?”

I raised my eyebrows and coughed. “On land.”

He chuckled. “Want to give it a shot?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Come on.” He got up and pointed for me to take the captain’s chair. “Face your fear. It’s easier than a car. No lanes.”

Shit, shit, shit…
“Is it really necess—”

“Call it an adventure. Come on.”

I made it without sinking us or running up on a sandbar, but I wouldn’t go look to do it again on purpose, either. Ever.

Back at the shop at nearly closing, I was met at the door by Bob the bait guy. Marg told me that Bob was unique, and that was an understatement. Bob grinned up at me from all of five foot two, with a large gap between his front teeth and tattoos all over his body. But that was nothing. Bob was a one-legged, very hairy, weather-worn man in blue jean shorts, a metal fake leg, and sneakers. Oh, and he had a hump on his back. I kid you not.

“Nice to meet ya,” he said in the gravelly voice of a lifelong smoker, shaking my hand like a man. I couldn’t help but like him.

He loaded up the bait vats, saluted me with a smile, and headed to his trailer, squeaky pole leg and all.

I closed up shop according to Marg’s notes and thought she was awfully brave to leave that to me on the first day. Guess I made a good first impression. Well, to be fair, she’d already taken all but one hundred dollars to the bank, so it wasn’t like I was left with Fort Knox.

I knew where I was going when I left, and it was the opposite direction from home. Within minutes, I wound through the neatly graveled figure eights, eventually landing at the end of a small rise. I got out and walked back two rows to the pinkish gray granite stone that sported my mother’s name and date of death. April 16, 1970. The day I was born.

My dad never let it be that way. Never once was my birthday anything other than my birthday. I only knew that my mother lived in the cemetery instead of at the house with us, and we kept flowers there for her and frequently went through the scrapbook she made when she was pregnant. I was six when I really noticed the date, and my dad explained it casually as being insignificant because she was just happy she got to see and hold me there at home where I was born, before God took her to heaven.

I never wondered if I killed her.

I did wonder why she never came around to tell me that herself. A million other people felt the need to tell me their postmortem thoughts.

“But not you, huh, Mom?” Nope. Never her. I took a deep breath. “We need you—me and Riley.”

It felt awkward to say that, having never known her or had any kind of relationship with her. I always visited, always talked to her about what I was doing as if she couldn’t possibly know otherwise. But I never asked for anything. Not even advice. Not even back then when I really needed a mom. I didn’t know how to have one.

“I’m back in this messed-up place again, and—” I blew out a frustrated breath. “You didn’t—or couldn’t—keep them off me,
but I’m begging you. If you have any pull whatsoever. Please keep them off Riley.” My voice choked. “She doesn’t deserve this. She didn’t ask for this.”

My eyes burned with tears, and the back of my neck prickled. Not like with Alex, which always felt like electric current, but just enough to make me react. I turned to see a redheaded older lady approach. She wore a lemon yellow pantsuit and carried a large orange purse that matched her orange shoes. How unfortunate to spend eternity in such an awful wardrobe choice. But, hey, when she put it all on, she probably didn’t realize there wouldn’t be a do-over.

I swiped at my eyes and smiled, looking back at the stone where the silk daisies appeared to morph from the top. That hadn’t changed. For forty years, my dad kept her favorite flowers on her grave. He never let them fade. He changed them out before they could.

“Nadine Danielle Shane,” the lady read as she stood next to me. She jutted her head that way as she turned to speak to me. “That your momma, there?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She nodded and squinted at the date. “Gone a long time. You aren’t old enough to have had too much of her.”

“None.”

She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Shame. Damn shame. Your daddy raise you?”

“Yes, ma’am. He’s all I had.”

Her head swiveled and she faced me with a snort. “Seems to me you obviously have more than most.”

A smile tugged at my lips on that one. “You have a point, there.”

“Damn right I do.”

“So, where are you from?” I asked.

“Arkansas,” she said proudly.

“How long have you been—”

“Couple months, I guess. Keep ending up in different places. My family’s all spread out, so I guess I have to go get closure with all their deadbeat asses before I can relax.”

I laughed. “Good luck with that.”

She grinned then and brandished her ugly orange purse. “Thanks for the company. Even for just a minute. It gets lonely where I am.”

I focused back on my mother’s headstone. “I understand that all too well.”

A
T
a little after midnight, I was tired of being wide awake horizontal so I tiptoed downstairs. Got a glass of milk and a leftover roll from supper and headed out to the porch. Bojangles lifted his head in interest of the dinner roll, wiggled his nose a bit, then decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Meat might have been a different story.

I settled onto the porch swing with a blanket I hadn’t brought for warmth—there was plenty of that. I needed the comfort in whatever way I could find. In the night sounds of the breeze turning the metal propellers of the weather-vane plane and the crickets and locusts and whatever else was out there partying in the thick air. Probably big tree roaches, too, but I chose denial on that one and it was too dark to prove otherwise.

My dad was so happy about my job. I didn’t have the heart to tell him how much I dreaded dragging my ass down there again to field crap from old “friends” that probably wagged tongues all over town. Tomorrow would bring a whole new shift of the newly informed pretending to be surprised.

I knew I felt sorry for myself and part of me despised that but the other part was PMSing and didn’t care.

“What the hell am I doing?” I whispered to the night.

“Whatever you have to,” it whispered back as the skin on my neck burned.

I jumped and jerked to my left to see Alex lean against the rail. I licked my lips.

“Guess I have to get used to that again.”

“I have faith in you.”

He crossed the porch and joined me on the swing, careful not to touch me. People touch ghosts all the time and don’t realize it. Feelings of déjà vu, confusion, random illogical thoughts, losing your way midsentence. Longer contact is more intense, for both. You feel everything they feel and vice versa. All I know is Alex always made it a point to avoid it, so I assumed it wasn’t a good thing for them.

“So, what brings you out here where there might be cockroaches?”

I shivered. “Was trying to block that, thank you.”

“Just saying.”

I sighed. “Can’t sleep. Too excited about work tomorrow—today—whatever.”

“Your dedication is inspiring.”

I sighed. “Yeah, I’m all that.”

He was quiet for a moment, probably to let my self-pity firmly root itself.

“It’s just temporary, Dani.”

“Really?”

He sighed impatiently and looked away.

“No, seriously, Alex. Really? Because my dad sings that same song. Do y’all see a lot of upper-level jobs around here? Maybe one day I can be police chief?”

He sat quiet again, and I felt the flood come.

“Shit.” My voice quivered and I hated it. But he’d been there before.

“I know.”

“I got away from this place and the claws it has that drag you down and rip you up. I made sure I’d never be at its mercy again.” The tears overflowed.
“Never.”

“I know,” he repeated.

“I know you do. You’re the only one that does.” I gulped air. “Now I’m back, forced to kiss ass to stupid, closed-minded people that I wouldn’t wipe my shoes on a year ago.”

He looked at me in the dark, and I felt the intensity of his eyes more than saw them. They glistened.

“They aren’t all that way, Dani. Don’t brand them all.”

I shook my head. “No, I know. I just—” I blew out a breath to try to calm down. “I just can’t stand the thought of Riley taking the crap for this. They’re gonna fuck with her, Alex, and I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“You’ll be a mom. That’s all you can do.”

“Yeah, I’ve been such a stellar example of that so far.”

“You have. Look at her. She’s a strong, smart-ass young woman that doesn’t take any crap.”

A laugh broke through my snotty hiccups. “Yeah.”

“So keep doing what you’re doing.” He leaned slightly toward me. “Start with telling her so she has something to arm herself with.”

I closed my eyes. “Yeah.”

“Seriously.”

I nodded and mopped at my face. “I know.”

“You’re going to tell her?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

I sniffed. “At some point.”

“Wuss.”

I chuckled a little in spite of myself. Only Alex had that power. “I went out in a boat today.”

There was a pause. “Really?” His voice sounded odd. He knew my crazy fear, he’d seen my reaction before.

“Drove it, even.”

“How was it?”

“I didn’t throw up.”

He laughed and I pushed the swing softly as the thoughts zipped through my head ninety miles an hour. I closed my eyes and tried to let the quiet noise settle the buzz. After a moment, I peered sideways out one eye to find his steady gaze on me.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft.

“Hey. Just checking if you were still here. Never know with you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

I stepped up the appearance meter a little the next day. Just for my own vanity. I couldn’t bear any more “friends” witnessing my downfall without at least good hair and makeup to buffer it.

It would be okay. It would be a good day. I had the right outlook, I was thinking positive. No more whining and bitching and moaning. I was done with that.

Even at ten till six in the morning, it was already muggy, so I rolled down my car windows. Not that that really helped anything, just gave some circulation. I drove past the two other streets that led down to the river, both of which held a couple of houses. I always liked that the river area didn’t get too populated. I liked the remoteness. There were only a few cars in front of me this early, probably leaving for Restin. I remember being psycho enough to leave that early for work once upon a time. That was another lifetime ago.

We crept up to the stop sign, one at a time. My phone buzzed on the console next to me, buzzing itself onto the passenger floorboard.

“Crap.”

I leaned over and groped around with one hand, my fingers blindly flailing through old receipts, a pen, and evidently an old pair of sunglasses I’d lost. I looked down for a second. Just long enough for—
bam
.

Not a big bam. More of a crunch that involved stopping without the use of my brakes. Enough to make me suck air so hard I almost choked as I jolted forward. I sat there in disbelief at the view of my rattletrap kissing the bumper of the white BMW in front of me.

“Son of a bitch.”

The guy that got out of the car with aviator sunglasses had a set to his jaw that clearly mirrored my response and probably a few more.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I mumbled as I got out and attempted a smile I didn’t feel. “Hi.”

He stared at his bumper and caressed its new wound, which I noticed was very minor, thank God. Unfortunately, my
black
car made the union not so pretty, minor or not.

“Hi? That’s what you get out and say?”

I backed up a step, taken aback. “Yeah, that’s what I usually start with. You didn’t let me get to—”

“Do you even have insurance?”

Okay, officially insulted. “Yes, of course I do.” I took a breath to slow the adrenaline. “Look, I’m really sorry. I got distracted.” I checked out the damage again, caressing my dirty bumper so I could show I cared, too. “It doesn’t look bad. We’ll get it fixed.”