Authors: Synthia St. Claire
“C’mon
Lil’ Bit and let’s find our seats. Who knows how long your Momma is gonna be
out here listenin’ to real-life soap opera stories. If’n she ain’t inside the
church by the time the bell rings, I’ll come out here and drag the both of ‘em
in.”
The
sanctuary was mostly full by the time we found the row our family usually sat
in. The pews all had the same pea-colored cushions and the wood was a deep
cherry red. Overhead, the modern recessed lighting gleamed off the highly-polished
pews and gave the space a less gloomy look than just the sun through intricate stained
glass.
People
around us talked quietly, together forming a constant, low, burbling murmur. I
peered around for faces I might recognize. There weren’t many. More times than
I could count I found people looking back at me. Their eyes shot back down the
moment I saw caught them and they would begin talking to whoever was sitting
near them. It didn’t take long to figure out what was going on.
Looks
like I’m the big news today
, I thought.
My
mental process was broken when I could have sworn I heard Hale’s voice over my
right shoulder.
“Mister
Atwater? Sir?”
Father
turned around and so did I. It
was
Hale. He was standing in the aisle
and dressed to the nines in a suave, sand-colored suit, with a vibrant,
emerald-green tie around his neck that matched his eyes so well it almost looked
like it was made of the same stuff.
When
did he get a suit? And come to church?!
“Did
Kat let you know about the part I need?” he asked without even looking in my
direction.
“Uh…yes,”
father said, apparently just as shocked to see Hale in church as me. “Kat filled
me in first thing this morning. I’ll put the order in on Monday.”
“Good,”
he said. “I just wanted to make sure. Once it comes in, I can get the harvester
back up and runnin’, sir.”
“Fine,
fine.” Daddy nodded and laced his hands together over his stomach.
Hale
shifted his gaze down to me. “Good mornin’, Kat.”
“What
are
you
doin’ here?” I asked suddenly, ignoring his greeting and trying
my best not to show the entire church my attitude.
“It
seemed like it was time.”
“Like
it was time?” I lowered my voice a little more. “Did you get drunk and hit your
head or something, Hale?”
“No,”
he said plainly. “Someone convinced me I ought to start goin’.”
I
could hardly believe it. “Who? And don’t tell me it was
Jesus
, or so
help me-“
And
at that moment, a long, delicate arm wrapped around him and a set of perfectly-manicured
fingernails dug into the side of Hale’s suit jacket. Attached to the arm was
none other than a smiling Cindy Reid, looking as devious and smug as ever, and
wearing a scarlet dress so tight and short that the women in the pews were
probably ready to scream blasphemy and the men were having trouble keeping
their eyes from popping out of their head. Her blonde hair was laid out long
and straight down her back, with only a barrette that matched her dress to hold
it in place.
Hale
tilted his head towards her and said, “Cindy here invited me. Her family’s a
big supporter of Ridgewater Baptist, you know.”
I
watched as Cindy traced one nail down the front of Hale’s shirt and a sick, icy
feeling developed in my stomach. “Daddy said we ought to start goin’ more
often,” she said with a slight giggle. Then she put her hand up to her face and
whispered, “He’s here, too. With everything goin’ on at the plant and the
lawsuit and all…well, people seein’ we’re good Christians, it makes em’ more
comfortable.”
I
think you mean sick
,
I thought, but I’d wished I’d said it aloud. Talking like that would have
gotten me more gasps from the crowd than Cindy’s slutty outfit.
“Up
front?” Hale turned to her and asked and then they were gone, walking together
down the aisle to join her father in the first row of pews. The head of every
member in the congregation swiveled to watch them as they went.
I
was rocked out of my trance by Momma, who quickly came shuffling into our row,
plopping down with urgency between me and my father.
“My
goodness! She ought to be ashamed of herself, looking like that in the house of
our Lord,” mother whispered loudly. One of the women seated in front of us
nodded her head in silent agreement. “And here with Hale Ellis! Why, when Miss
Pauline and I saw ‘em comin’ up the sidewalk both of us thought for sure they’d
burst into flame soon as they crossed the front door!”
“I’m
kind of surprised they didn’t,” I muttered.
“Now
I ain’t one to get down on nobody for comin’ ta church or tryin’ to find Jesus,”
mother quickly reiterated, “Love the sinner and hate the sin, that’s what my
Daddy taught me! But for land’s sakes, lookin’ like…like
that
….well, it ain’t
the way to be presentin’ yourself ‘fore the entire congregation.”
“There
sure is a lot of sin sittin’ in that front pew,” I remarked.
Momma
turned to my father and slapped her hand against his arm. “That boy tell you
what he was here for? I saw him talkin’ to you, George.”
“He
jus’ asked me about them bearings for the harvester. Said that Miss Cindy Reid
up yonder invited him to come along to service.”
Mother
shifted in her seat and craned her neck like she was gawking at a crash on the
side of the road. “Yep. That’s her father, Patterson, up there sittin’ with
‘em. Miss Pauline was tellin’ me he was here. Why, he ain’t been in church
since he was runnin’ for mayor all them years ago.”
“And
after his wife died,” Daddy reminded her.
“That’s
right. God bless her soul.” Momma put her hand over her chest and held a long
blink. “She was a
good
woman.”
Before
mother could say anything else that she’d have to chastise herself for later,
the subdued music raised a few octaves and the organ began to chime out loudly
with the hymnal notes of
The Old Rugged Cross
. Pastor James emerged from
the vestibule, dressed in the same purple-colored robes I remembered him
wearing when I was just a little girl. After rousing the church to sing and
going over a few mundane, upcoming events, he launched into his sermon.
He
spoke spiritedly of forgiveness, and how all of us should look within to find
it. “Just like Jesus,” he’d said, and that we should try to live our lives the
same way, but I found it intensely hard to be very Christ-like right about
then. Cindy was sitting so close to Hale that she might as well have been on
his lap. Suddenly I began to wish that I’d ripped out a few chunks of that
perfect blonde mop on her head the day I’d run into her at the market.
Yes,
definitely
not
what Jesus would do.
Just
look at them. And he denied that they had been together!
I thought,
stewing in my own bitterness while I watched them.
That son of a bitch.
Once
a liar, always a liar
. When he briefly turned towards me, as if to make
sure I was seeing him and her together, I wanted to scream.
He was still
playing with me, even though I’d broken it off with him weeks ago
.
I
stayed that way for the rest of the service, and most of Pastor James’ words
wound up sounding like a constant drone inside my ears. After he concluded and
the collection plate was passed around, the normal protocol was broken and the
pastor informed us that Patterson Reid, “A prominent member of our
congregation,” had asked to speak a few words.
A
few members clapped as the balding, heavy-set man walked up to the pulpit, but
most simply watched and listened. They knew he was important. They knew he was
rich. Everyone in Kirkland had seen him campaign for mayor in his tailored suit
which cost thousands, or they’d watched him drive by downtown in his antique
Bugatti during his weekend “pleasure drives”. He’d run the town for two years
and done a fair job at it, but what many people would never know were just how
many tricks he pulled in that position to fill his own pockets. Those who did
were well-paid for their silence.
Reid
cleared his throat with one large hand curled into a fist over his mouth and
his thick, greyish-white beard, then he adjusted his glasses and began to
speak.
“Thank
you, Pastor James. Thank you, all of ya’ll who have joined with us on this
glorious Sunday morning, for giving me the opportunity to speak today before
the whole entirety of Ridgewater Baptist.”
Patterson
Reid was no stranger to speaking to a large crowd. His voice was forceful and
charismatic, just the way the best, most crooked politicians addressed their
constituents.
“As
many of you have probably heard by now, there have been false allegations made
against my company, PCR Phosphate, which employs hundreds of workers right here
in Kirkland. These allegations have come in the form of a federal lawsuit,
which threatens the livelihood of many of you who are listening. And tomorrow,
we go to trial.”
Reid
folded up the piece of paper he was reading from and stuck it into his pocket.
He leaned forward on the pulpit and glanced out into the crowd. “Now, I’m aware
that I’ve been absent more often than not within the walls of this church over
the last few months, and I know that there is no good or reasonable excuse for
it. Still, I consider myself a part of this
family
, and all of you know
that I’ll do whatever I have to, no matter what, if it means securing the
welfare of this wonderful town and telling the government to leave our
hard-working employees alone.”
There
was another smattering of applause, louder than the first one, and he
continued, “Kirkland depends on you. I implore all of you to think about that
tonight, and what it means if we just stand idly by and let the strong hand of
a bunch of government lawyers steer us in whatever direction they want. I, for
one, will stand up and say, ‘
No’
to their scare tactics. I will stand up
and tell them, ‘
We won’t be pushed around
.’ I promise to stand up and
protect the most vital, most important part of our community – the people who
want to work, and don’t want another government hand out! I sincerely hope that
all of
you
will stand beside me, and beside what this town means to
everyone that lives here. Thank you.”
I
wondered if they’d forgotten about the people that had fallen ill over the
years because of the poison that plant put in the water. The end of his speech
was covered by the boisterous sound of applause. Just like that, with a few
sugary words, Patterson Reid had won so many of them over. The smile on his
face was a mile long as he shook the pastor’s hand and returned to his seat. He
looked every bit like the cat that had just eaten the canary.
They
had forgotten, hadn’t they? He’d convinced them.
There
was more to the story than what Cindy had said, just like I thought. Patterson
Reid didn’t simply want to look good, or upstanding, he wanted the entire town
on his side for the trial. He’d done it when he ran for mayor, and it secured
him an easy victory. Now, he was trying to pull off the same stunt. It might
have been wrong of me to think it at the time, but I clenched my fists hoped
that one day I’d see him and his smug, conniving daughter get hit right where
it hurt the most.
Twelve
Opening
arguments began on Shane’s case first thing Monday morning, but the news was
more focused on the growing group of protestors that had gathered outside the courthouse.
I watched them on television, holding up signs and marching up and down the
sidewalk with unruly expressions on their faces. When a reporter put her
microphone in front of one man, he angrily chanted, “PCR is here to stay!
EPA
,
go away
!”
It
would have been humorous if not for the serious, crazed gleam in his eye and
the dozens of other protestors standing behind him and chanting the same thing.
I silently wondered how many of them had been paid to be there by Patterson
Reid and how many he had simply managed to convince to join. Undoubtedly, many
of them were employees that had come to fight for their jobs.
Things
were mostly the same through Wednesday, with very little coming back about the
trial itself and most of the attention going to the protestors. Several people
had already been arrested by police for getting out of control and one man was
filmed being roughly pushed against the courthouse steps and handcuffed after
tossing a sign at one of the lawyers from Shane’s team. The whole thing was devolving,
and fast.
I
was sitting with mother at her chemotherapy appointment when my phone buzzed in
my purse. It was a text from Shane, letting me know he hadn’t forgotten about
coffee and asked if I had time to meet with him.
“A
message from you-know-who?” Momma asked teasingly.
“Yeah.”
I slid my finger across the cracks in the screen while I read his message. “He
wants me to meet him for coffee at the Atlantic Café downtown. Apparently the
court is having a long recess for the next few hours.”
“You
should go on and meet with him then. I’m not goin’ nowhere till this here bag
is finished.” Mother raised one finger and pointed at the bag of neon liquid
hanging above her chair.
I
let out a sigh. “I want to see him. I just feel like I’m always leaving you here,
Momma.”
“Oh,
phooey
,” she dismissed it. “That’s cause I’m always askin’ you to go
fetch somethin’ or other. ‘Sides, I won’t be havin’ to come here much longer.
My last appointment is next week.”
“I
know you’ll be glad.”
“Darn
right. Think I’ll even drive myself.”
“Momma,
no,” I argued. “You’re not supposed to be driving.”
“Like
hell I ain’t. I told you I got this thing licked.” She crossed her arms and
stuck out her chin. “I’m perfectly capable of gettin’ myself to and from this
place, and I won’t hear another word of it, young lady. You don’t need to be
here anyway for my meetin’ with the doctor.”
What
the heck was that supposed to mean? Not once had she argued with me about
taking her to the appointments over the last few weeks. Now, all of a sudden, I
was being overbearing?
“Momma,
I-“
“
Nnnt!
”
she chided nasally. ‘I done tol’ you and that’s it, Mary Katherine. I want to
do next week’s appointments on my own.”
I
stared at her in confusion for a moment before finally shaking my head and
giving up. Mother was just as hard-headed as Daddy when it came to certain
things and this was no exception, it seemed.
“Listen,”
she said, and reached out to stroke my forearm with one bony hand. For all her
renewed energy the last few days and how much she’d been eating, the progress
seemed to have faded. Even the greyish circles had begun forming around her
eyes again.
“Mary
Katherine, I know what’s best for me, and this is somethin’ I aim to do on my
own. So go on, now. That man is waitin’ to hear back from you. Don’t just sit
there jawin’ at your ol’ Momma. You go and sit with him for a while. I’ll be
right here waitin’ when you get back.”
I
relinquished a half-hearted smile. “Alright. I won’t be long, ok? But I still
want to talk about this driving business later. Don’t think I’m just going to
forget.”
“Yeah,
yeah. Leave me to my soaps, now, and change that channel ‘fore you go. Tired of
watchin’ all this nonsense on the news anyway.”
I
arrived at the Atlantic Café, a small coffee shop a few blocks from the
courthouse, and pulled mother’s old Buick carefully into the narrow space
between two other cars right off the street. It was metered parking, of course,
as real estate downtown was precious and what few parking lots existed were
either reserved or drastically inconvenient.
“C’mon…easy
does it,” I coaxed.
Just
as I thought I’d pulled off squeezing the gigantic land yacht of an automobile into
place, there came a sudden, disturbing bang from the rear of the vehicle. I
jammed the brakes, causing the whole car to shake, and covered my mouth with my
hand.
Oh,
crap
.
I
buried my head against the wheel and shook my head. This day was not turning
out how I’d expected. Mother was going to kill me.
Before
I could get out to inspect the damage though, I heard a squeaky, irritating
laugh. There, standing near the rear fender of the car, was Cindy Reid. Her
cheeks were rosy with glee, and once she saw the mortified look on my face
through the window, she raised her shoulders up and cackled even louder. To
demonstrate her prank, she banged her hand against the trunk, creating the same
hollow sound I’d heard only moments ago. I went from total shock to seeing red
in less than a second.
“Oh
my!” she said, barely able to contain herself, “That was
too
much. We
jus’ keep runnin’ into each other! Did you think you had another traffic accident?”
“Just
what the hell are you doing? I thought I crashed into something!” I could feel my
pulse pounding in my head as I climbed out of the Buick and slammed the door
behind. The desire to leap over the hood and strangle her was overwhelming.
Cindy
shook off her cackling and said, “I was in the neighborhood for the trial. You
know, just showin’ my support for Daddy and all those poor workers that might
lose their jobs. When I saw your Momma’s beat-up ol’ car pullin’ in, I knew it
had to be you. What brings you all the way down here and off the farm?”
“You
scared the life out of me, Cindy.”
“It
was just a joke, Kat. For goodness sakes, you’d think I’d put a dent in this
ugly ol’ thing? Maybe with a sledgehammer-”
“It
wasn’t funny. You could have hurt someone.”
She
waved me off. “You really need to lighten up. I ‘member when you used to think
this kind of thing was hilarious. Did seein’ me with Hale upset you so much
that you lost your sense of humor?”
And
then, I kind of lost it. With a quick flick on my wrist, I tossed my purse back
through the open driver’s side window and stormed around the front of the car. Cindy
took a step back and the smirk on her face melted away into a look of dread. My
fists were balled up so tight that my knuckles had turned numb and white, but
they remained stiffly down by my sides. So help me, I was going to rearrange
her pretty little face if someone didn’t jump between us.
“
Bitch!
”
I cursed loudly, and Cindy stumbled backwards at my sudden, angry approach. It
was doubtful that many people, if any, had ever spoken to her like that in her
entire life.
“T-take
it easy, Kat.”
“You
think you can push the poor little farm girl around? Is that it?!” I was trying
really hard to keep from shouting, but it only mostly worked. “You can’t mess
with people like that!” I got so close that I could smell the sharp scent of
designer hair spray coming off her long blonde tresses. “You make me sick, do
you know that?
Sick
, Cindy.”
“What
is wrong with you?!”
“You’re
what’s wrong.” I jabbed my finger out right at her nose, only missing by a few
inches, and she flinched and cowered away timidly. “Hale doesn’t even
like
you. He’s just hanging around with you to try and make me jealous, and
it
isn’t going to work
.”
“You’re…you’re
c-crazy,” she stammered, and took another step back.
Maybe
so,
I
thought
. What the heck was I doing? Had I lost my mind?
I
swallowed hard and felt myself relax just slightly. The fire went out inside me
and receded to a slow smolder. Seeing this, Cindy must have realized that I
wasn’t going to beat the living hell out of her after all and she began clumsily
retreating down the sidewalk. The look of nervousness in her eyes was almost
comical. Thankfully, and not too surprisingly, she kept her trap shut this
time.
Before
Cindy had stepped off the curb and started making her way back in the direction
of the courthouse, I heard the shop door open behind me with a jingle followed
by Shane’s familiar voice, “I think you really got through to her.”
Embarrassment
flooded me, replacing any of the leftover anger.
“Oh
my God…I can’t believe you saw that. I am so sorry, Shane. I don’t know what to
say.”
He
stepped out and wrapped one arm over my shoulder, escorting me inside. “I
wasn’t going to do anything unless I thought you were
really
going to
hit her. It was close, though. I was on the edge of my seat. I even put my
coffee down.”
“I
feel like such an idiot. That girl knows how to push my buttons.”
“She’s
like that with a lot of people, I’d guess.”
We
walked inside the café and Shane showed me to our seats. He’d already taken the
liberty of ordering a large mug of something for me that smelled delicious.
“Chocolate
Mocha, with whipped cream and a shot of espresso,” he said, and took a sip of
his own cup. Then came his familiar, charming smile. “I figured you might like
it, Kat. Although now I’m thinking I should have ordered you something a little
less…caffeinated.”
“You
probably should have.” The embarrassment was leaving me finally. I blew out
between pursed lips.
He
stirred the mixture and asked, “So I take it you’re familiar with Patterson
Reid’s daughter?”
“Um-hmm.
We went to high school together. That’s the third time we’ve crossed paths since
I got back into town.”
“I
see,” Shane said, examining me. “You two have a, uh,
rough
history?”
“Something
like that. She’s been after my ex for as long as I can remember. Now that we
broke up and she’s got him, she’s taken every opportunity to throw it in my
face. Her little practical joke out there sort of just…pushed me over the
edge.”
“Oh.”
“I’m
over him,” I quickly added.
“Ok.”
“You
know what he did. I told you what he was like.”
“I
believe you, Kat.”
I
swirled the thin red straw in my mocha and watched the white whipped cream form
long sugary trails in the dark, chocolate-laced coffee. “You still coming to
the farm this weekend?”
“Of
course. I can’t wait.”
“I
really am sorry that you saw me acting like that. I promise you that I’ve never
done anything like that before, Shane. I don’t know what got into me, exactly.”
“Don’t
worry about it. Like I said, I have a feeling she’s like that. Before you
showed up, she was in here, telling me how her father would have my job before
everything was over and done with.”
“Really?”
“Oh
yeah. She said I’d be lucky to get a job pumping gas by the time he was through
with me. Probably my fault, since I started talking to her first. It was kind
of, I don’t know,
cathartic
watching you let her have it out there. I
couldn’t do it myself. People around here already hate me enough, I think.”
“Yeah
well, she’s a bitch,” I said, almost whispering the last word.
“I
heard.” Shane chuckled and took another sip of his drink. “So did a few other
people.”
We
both sat in silence for a moment, enjoying being there together. It was
infinitely more comfortable than the silence we shared on the way home after
our first date.
“So,
how’s the case going? Cindy must think things are pretty bad for the Reid’s if
she’s in here messing with you, too.”
“They
are screwed,” Shane said thoughtfully. “Opening arguments are done. They pled
not guilty, of course. We’ve already had one witness up, a man who worked at
PCR for over ten years and developed some significant liver damage after being
exposed to toxic dust on a daily basis. After that, we’ve got nearly a dozen
others; people that worked there, a man that lost his livestock, a couple that
lived nearby and had to vacate with their baby-”
“The
Morris family,” I said. “Everybody in Kirkland knows about them.”
“Right.”
“Part
of the mine collapsed on their property and their well was filled with whatever
nasty stuff that place digs up.”
“And
it had probably been contaminated for years before that,” Shane added. “All the
environmental data from back then was handled by PCR, so naturally, everything
looked kosher. The EPA had two surveys done back in the late eighties that said
otherwise. Our newest survey was taken last year, leading up to the lawsuit.”