Jesse felt kind of bad that he’d lied about serving papers to one of the nurses. But Leigh had been so anxious, he didn’t want to leave her there alone. Both her folks were at work. Might as well save them from unnecessary time off. He had his radio on him if anyone needed him. He figured she might be a while with the doctor, so he decided to reach out to another person on his list.
This one would be tough. He’d pulled a lot of stunts, but The Chicken Incident of 2003 had been a doozy. Sarah Donner, wife of the pastor of First Baptist Church, had despised him ever since. Any time he’d run into her in public, she leveled a death glare at him. Every now and then, she would call in a “suspicious activity” at one location or another. Jesse would go out to investigate every time, and of course, found nothing. Reverend Donner, on the other hand, had always been kind to Jesse. Which was why he needed to try to make amends with the preacher’s wife.
He dialed up the number he’d saved in his phone for just such an occasion.
She answered on the first ring in her high-pitched, breathy voice. “Hello? Donner residence.”
“Hi, Mrs. Donner, this is Jesse Maddox.”
Silence. He expected her to hang up.
Instead, she replied with an impatient, “Okay, and…?”
“And, uh, I wanted to apologize for what I did to your chickens. I’d like to do something to make it up to you. Is there anything you need? Yard mowing, fence painting, toilet cleaning?”
She giggled. “Stop it.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Not you.” Her voice became muffled as though she had a hand over the receiver. “Stop it, George. I’ll be in there in a minute. Light the candles and turn on some Marvin Gaye.”
He grimaced, trying not to imagine them getting it on. “Mrs. Donner, sounds like I've caught you at a bad time...”
“Yes, okay. If you want to do something nice for once, then you can come feed my darling Barkley and let him go out to pee while we’re on vacation so we don't have to pay a pet sitter. He shouldn't be a problem. He's a very sweet boy and loves to cuddle. But don't you dare let him onto the street. If anything happens to him, I'll make sure you're fired.”
“Uh…yeah, no problem. I can take care of Barkley. Just let me know when.”
“I will. If there’s nothing else…?”
“No, nothing else.”
“Okay, then, goodbye.” Bleep, bloop, and she was gone.
Jesse scratched his head. How the hell had that gone so smoothly? He supposed she was just impatient to get “frisky” with the reverend. They never seemed like the frisky type, but what did he know? He went back inside and sat in the waiting room.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.
“Could I get you some coffee or anything?” Cindy asked from the receptionist’s desk.
“No, thanks.” Jesse picked up a Better Homes & Gardens magazine and flipped through it.
Glancing up, he noticed a woman across the room staring at him. Sometimes the uniform and holstered gun made people nervous. He tried instead to focus on the latest trends in feng shui-ing your outdoor entertainment space, but he worried about Leigh. He looked at his phone—it had been an hour already. Leigh’s car should be at the shop by now. He just hoped she was okay.
But this woman wouldn’t stop staring. She looked to be about his age or a little older, with sagging skin on her neck and arms. Maybe she’d lost a bunch of weight. And then it hit him…
“You remember me, don’t you?” She closed her magazine then crossed her arms while she fixed him with a death glare.
“Margaret Sandusky?”
“It’s Richardson now.”
“Oh.” He tried to remember what number she was on his list, but that really didn’t matter as much as the fact that he had no idea she’d been sitting across from him this whole time. His mouth went dry.
“You called me Large Marge, remember? And Husky Sandusky?”
“Um, yes, ma’am. And I’m very sorry that I did.”
A pregnant lady and an old man who sat nearby frowned at him. The old man shook his head. A disapproving audience didn’t make this any easier.
“Well, I lost all that weight,” Marge explained. Her voice was shaky as though she might cry at any moment.
“You look good. And I’m sorry for how I treated you back then. I was a big, stupid kid who did a lot of stupid things.”
"You think that makes up for it? You have no idea what I've been through. My husband is on disability, and I had to quit culinary school so we could pay the mortgage. I tried to kill myself last year; did you you know that?"
"No, and I'm sor-"
"And here you are, Mr. High and Mighty Cop with not a care in the world, expecting me to forgive you just like that." She snapped her fingers, barked out a sob, and went to the receptionist’s desk. The candy bowl rattled on the counter as Marge grabbed a red Life Saver, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth. “I’m supposed to be fasting. Now look what you’ve made me do.”
Her loud crunching almost drowned out his voice. “Um, maybe you shouldn’t—”
She grabbed an orange one and devoured it too. “What? Eat? Should I starve so I look better for you?”
“Um...no.” He wanted to sink into his shined-up shoes. This had not gone down the way he had planned, but then again, neither had the others on his list.
The pregnant lady and old man glared at him. How in the hell was he supposed to fix this one? A green Life Saver was the next to succumb to Marge’s wrath. Cindy the receptionist came out from behind the desk with a box of tissues.
Jesse’s cheeks burned. Should he offer to pay for Marge’s Jenny Craig or Weight Watchers membership? Become her fitness accountability partner? Shit. He’d read too much womanly advice in Better Homes & Gardens.
“I can make it up to you,” he said helplessly. “What can I do to help you?”
“Help me? You know how you can help me? Go fuck yourself!” Marge wolfed down a pineapple Life Saver and threw a lemon one at Jesse. It bounced off his head.
Cindy took Marge by the arm and gave her a tissue. “Come on, sweetie. You’ve had enough. Let’s get you to the restroom before your mascara runs.”
The receptionist led a bawling Marge toward the exam rooms. Leigh came back into the lobby just then. One eyebrow arched as Cindy and Marge passed by, then her eyes grew wide as she spotted Jesse.
He sprang from his seat, flinging the Better Homes & Gardens into the chair beside him. “Ready?”
“Yeah, but…what are you still doing here?”
“Never mind. After you.” He motioned toward the door and followed on her heels.
“What in the world happened in there?” Leigh asked when they reached his patrol car.
“Just get in. I’ll explain later.”
“Ah, so which number is she?”
“Three, I think. Or eight. She caught me totally off guard.”
“I can see that.” Leigh laughed. Then her voice grew somber. "She’s had a hard time lately. It’s to be expected that she’d be upset coming face-to-face with someone who ridiculed her for her weight.”
Ouch. Hearing that hurt. The thought occurred to him that Marge could be one of Leigh's clients. How many people on his list might have confided in Leigh about how he treated them? Maybe that explained her nervousness.
But he had to suck it up. “So how do I make amends?”
“Just give her time. You can find some way to reach her, I bet.” She grew quiet and stared out the window as he turned onto the highway, fidgeting with her purse strap.
He didn’t know what to say, because he didn’t know whether the doctor’s visit had upset her or if he had. So, he said the first thing he could think of. “Your dad has your car. Do you want me to take you to your office? He can bring it to you there.”
“No, I’m taking the day off. Could you just take me home?”
“Sure.”
“You know, you really didn’t have to wait there for me. Mum could have picked me up.”
“It’s fine. She was busy at the clinic when I called her, so I told her I’d wait for you. I’ve got my radio and phone if I’m needed.”
As if on cue, his cell phone rang, coming through the car speakers via Bluetooth. He glanced at the caller ID. “Sorry, I need to take this.”
She waved her consent, and he hit accept on his phone.
“What’s up, Pa?”
Jesse’s grandfather, Sylvester Maddox, cleared his throat twice –loudly – as he always did when he called someone. Jesse saw Leigh wince through the rearview mirror. He considered pulling off the road and putting the phone to his ear so she wouldn’t have to listen to this.
But the old man had already started rambling. There was no shutting him up now. “Nurse had to leave early. Can you get my pills at the pharmacy? I need to take my noon ones soon, and I’m all out.”
“Did she leave, or did you run her off?”
“I can’t help it if she can’t take a joke or two. Can you get my pills, or should I take my scooter?”
“I’ll get them. Just take a nap or watch The Walking Dead until I get there, okay? No driving down the road on your scooter anymore. You’re gonna get flattened by a semi.”
Jesse clicked off and heaved a giant sigh. “Sorry, Doc. I’ll run you home first. He can wait.”
“No, that’s fine. Go get his pills. I can’t let a fellow Walking Dead fan be without his medicine. I’d also like to meet him since you never mentioned your grandfather.” That one eyebrow of hers arched all accusing-like as she caught his gaze in the rearview mirror.
“Sorry. Are you sure you want to meet him? He’s a real piece of work. I can’t guarantee he won’t say something offensive.”
“Try me. I’ve heard it all.”
Jesse turned around in the next driveway and headed back toward town, where he picked up Sylvester’s meds at the pharmacy drive-through. Then he drove the two and a half miles out of town and turned left onto the gravel road that led to his house. Why would Leigh want to come out here with him? Was she wanting to see where the crazy in his family came from? Or did she simply need a distraction? Whatever the case, he didn’t know whether this was a good idea or not. Once she met his grandpa, she might be like all the nurses who'd run screaming for the hills over the past year.
Jesse pulled onto the dusty drive and up to the double wide he’d shared with Sylvester for what seemed like forever. It wasn’t much to look at, but he kept the place cleaned up, the yard mowed, bushes trimmed. Then he second-guessed his decision to bring Leigh along. She would probably think they were nothing but sorry white trash.
She didn’t say anything, but he caught her sympathetic expression in the rearview mirror as he pulled up to the house. He shut off the car and got out with the medication, then came around and opened the back door for Leigh. She followed him up the porch steps, glancing up at some buzzards flying over the house. Sylvester was there asleep in one of the rocking chairs.
He nudged the old man’s slippered foot. “Wake up, Pa. The buzzards are circling again.”
Sylvester snorted himself awake, grabbing the hand rests with wild eyes and wilder hair. “Who’s circlin’?”
“Never mind.” Jesse handed him the pills. “Here’s your medicine. Want me to get you some water for these? Then I have to go.”
The old man blinked and rubbed his eyes, honing his nearsighted vision on Leigh. His glasses sat catawampus on top of his head. “Whoa there. Who’s the stripper?”
Leigh put a hand on her hip. Great—Sylvester had already offended her in less than ten seconds. Record time.
“She’s not a stripper, Pa. She’s my…uh…doctor.”
“Doctor, eh? How about a lap dance?” Sylvester shook with laughter and winked at Leigh.
The old fart acted like he was still a lady-killer, but at seventy-five and riddled with arthritis, most people thought he was all talk and no action. Unless a woman got within his reach, that is. He’d slapped more than a few nurses’ asses.
Jesse was about to tell him to put a sock in it when Leigh came back with, “You couldn’t afford me, old man. Now how about I get you some water so you can take these pills and keep the buzzards off you?”
Sylvester stopped laughing and squinted up at Jesse. “You got a wildcat there, boy. Better keep her around.”
Jesse grinned at Leigh. She winked back. Maybe she could tolerate the old coot after all.
“Come on in.” Jesse opened the screen door and let her step inside first.
Insistent meows greeted them from the kitty corral Jesse had set up in the living room. Five fuzzy bodies with little tails sticking straight up bounced around excitedly. They all had some combination of white and black and never stopped moving unless they were sleeping.
"I'll play with you later, promise."
Leigh knelt and scratched their chins through the bars. "They're adorable. I bet it's hard to give them up when you're done fostering them."
"Yeah." He didn't tell her that he had come close to tears a few times when he had to let them go.
"Why do you want to foster kittens?" She flicked a jingle ball across the corral, much to the delight of the one girl in the litter, who chased and caught it like a mighty little hunter.
He shrugged. "They're small and helpless and don't have anyone to show them what it's like to have a home before they're adopted. I know what that feels like."
She stood up again. Her gaze held his for a moment, her eyes warm with sympathy.
Finally, she blinked and looked around. The trailer seemed bigger inside than it was thanks to a vaulted ceiling and open floor plan with the kitchen and living area in one big space. But like they say, you can put lipstick on a pig, and it's still a pig. Jesse went to the kitchen, got a glass from the cabinet, and filled it with tap water.
Curiosity nudged him to find out. “You like it?”
“It’s not bad for a bachelor pad.” She smiled as though she were truly impressed. Or embarrassed for him.
“Yeah, we keep it clean. We may be white trash, but we don’t have to live in trash.”
She chuckled. “I’ll have to remember that one. When did your grandpa move in?”
“He didn’t. It’s his place. I’ve lived here with him ever since…” He stopped short, not wanting to delve too far into the past. “I’d put him in a home, but they’d kick him out.”
“For flirting with the nurses?”
“If he wasn’t a little”—Jesse circled his finger around his temple—“they’d have called it sexual harassment.”
“He sounds like he’s a handful. Do you take care of him all by yourself?”
“Apart from the nurses that come and go, yep, just me. My brother Jack pays some of Pa's medical bills, but other than that...” He shrugged. No sense badmouthing his brother for keeping his distance.
“You’re a really good grandson.”
“He did all he could to take care of Jack and me. I owe him that.”
“What happened to your parents?”
“Are we in your office?”
“No…”
“Then let’s not dig up bones that need to be left alone.”
"Sorry." Leigh lowered her gaze, turning her attention to the stack of cookbooks on the counter. She’d probably had a great childhood, full of candy and ponies and family beach vacations. He envied her a little, but what else was new? He’d envied a lot of people over the years.
“I’ll go take this to Pa.” Then he thought of something. “Do you know anything about feng shui?”
“A little, why?”
“I’ll show you when I get back.” He hurried out the door with the water.
Sylvester looked up at him, grinning. “It’s about time you brought a girl home.”
“She’s not my girl,” Jesse said, surprisingly sad about that proclamation. He handed Sylvester the water and opened his pills for him, pouring out the required two a day, then handed them over as well.
Sylvester tossed the pills in his mouth, washed them down with the water, and wiped his chin on his shirt sleeve. “She ain’t your type anyway.”
“Why do you say that? Because she's half black?”
"No, it's 'cause she's a lot prettier than you."
“Well, it doesn’t matter, because she’s not my girl.” Loneliness pinched at his heart as he reiterated the fact that he was single and likely to remain that way. “Go on inside and take a nap.”
Jesse returned to the kitchen, where Leigh stood patiently at the counter, flipping through his mamaw’s cookbook. Her smile brought on the pinch again.
“Good stuff in here,” she said, scanning his mamaw's famous meatloaf recipe.
“Yeah. Wish I could cook half of it. We used to have some great Sunday suppers. Now it’s mostly frozen pizzas and bologna.”
“Reminds me of my grandmother’s cookbooks when I last visited her in Cambridge several years ago. They were splattered with grease and batter. Signs of good use, she said.” Leigh closed the cookbook, keeping her hand on it for a moment as though savoring that fond memory. “So, what’s this feng shui question?”
“Follow me.” He led her through the living area to the patio doors. If there was anything that might impress her about the property, it was the backyard. The mini shades were closed, hiding the view. He opened both doors and stepped outside.
Leigh followed.
“So, according to Better Homes & Gardens, your outdoor spaces need some feng shui, too,” he said.
“Wait. You read Better Homes & Gardens?”
“Just the April issue in the waiting room of Dr. Kushman’s office. That was the manliest magazine I could find.”
She laughed. He liked it. It sounded genuine, almost musical.
“Anyway, I got new furniture for my deck, and I don’t know if it’s feng shui-ed properly.”
“Wow.” She walked across the newly stained deck and stood at the rail where pots of geraniums and gerbera daisies hung, and looked across the sloping backyard to the fishing pond. “I don’t think you need to worry about feng shui. It’s so spacious and tranquil.”
On the pond, a pair of ducks and their six ducklings swam from behind a stand of cattails. Perfect timing. Leigh’s smile widened even more. This place had been lacking in happiness since his mamaw died. It was nice to see such joy and awe again.
He joined her at the railing, leaning over to prop his elbows on it. He had to say, he’d done a decent job with it all. The gazebo and fire pit by the pond were brand new. A circle of concrete blocks, the beginnings of an outdoor wood-fired pizza oven, were near that.
“It’s all right, I guess,” he said with a shrug.
“All right? It’s more than all right. You should be proud of all this. I grew up in a suburb with maybe a half acre, surrounded by a fence, and saw the outdoors mostly through a window.”
“Didn’t play outside much?”
“No.” She glanced at him, then stared back out at the pond, her expression somber.
“Surely you went fishing a few times.”
She shook her head.
“Not even once?”
“Not even once.”
“I’ve seen your dad’s picture in the ‘What a Catch’ section of the paper. He caught a record-breaking bass and catfish, I think. But he never took you fishing? I bet you hated the worms.”
She chuckled. “No, it wasn’t that.” She still wouldn’t look at him. Maybe life hadn’t been all fun and games for her as a kid.
“You know, I could teach you how to fish,” he said. “It’s not hard.”
She pushed herself away from the rail and crossed her arms. “Look, I appreciate the gesture, but we have to keep things professional. Could you take me home now?”
“I’m sorry, I just thought—”
“It’s fine. Really. I’m not on your list. There’s no reason to apologize.”
He nodded. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”
Leigh barely spoke two words as he drove her back home. Whatever he’d said or done, he’d gone too far, and he wished he could make it up to her somehow. But like she said, she wasn’t on his list, and from the sounds of it, she didn’t want anything to do with him outside the office. He should have known better. Was he destined to be a screwup his whole life?