Chapter Twenty-Three

The next day was Sunday and I realized Daddy had been dead almost two weeks. On top of that, I’d been made ridiculously wealthy and in charge of Daddy’s ventures. In addition, as always, there was Annie. Only this time it was different. There was no bittersweet longing. Instead, there was the sort of bafflement one feels when playing blind man’s bluff. Blindfolded, you’re spun around and around, but you are clever and certain you know the lay of the room and where all the other players are. When someone rips off the blindfold, you are befuddled because nothing is where it should be. You look around, blinking, relearning your bearings. That scene in Annie’s living room was my decades-old blindfold being torn off. I needed to realign myself with reality. Everything was there as I had left it, but now it was in the wrong spot. Or I was in the wrong spot.

And then there was the memory of the sheriff in those chaps.

After making coffee, I decided to check the voicemail I had ignored the night before. There were two messages.

“Jilly-bean, oh, I mean…boss! We have a company to run, and I need to discuss a few issues with you. Nothing earth-shaking but I want them out of the way by Monday. Can I see you tomorrow? Call me. Bye.”

As much as I didn’t want to face business matters with Billy, I did want to talk with him about that cashier’s check. He needed to know I was going to take the money and back off the Martins. Not because of the “act of war” silliness, but because I wanted more of their goodwill so that I could develop my story unimpeded by legalities.

The next message was from Annie. I winced when I heard her hesitant voice.

“Hi, Jill. It’s Annie. Um…I need to apologize for the other night. I had no idea Wayne was coming home. I hope you believe me about that. Could we…uh, talk sometime soon? I’ll be gone all day tomorrow, Sunday. But we could talk on Monday, if that’s convenient for you. Call me? Please?”

Compelled but simultaneously repelled, I called Annie’s number to leave a message. I didn’t want to talk to her, not yet. Instead of voicemail, however, Wayne picked up. I forced myself not to hang up since everybody has that damnable caller ID feature these days.

“Hey, Wayne, it’s Jill. I know Annie isn’t around but I wanted to leave her a message.”

“Hey, Jill, you’re right. She’s not around. Doing her target practice, I guess. She’s…well, she’s not around on Sundays.” Wayne sounded a little down, maybe hung-over, and that gave me an excuse to keep it short.

“Okay, well, tell her I’ll get a hold of her sometime tomorrow, would you?”

“Sure, no problem. Um, there’s something else I need to tell you.” Just hearing his voice made me feel so guilty. I felt like I needed to head to the church and the confessional, which I hadn’t done in twenty-five years.

“What’s that, Wayne?”

“I did a shift at the nursing home last night, substituting for a sick nurse’s aide. You know old man Martin is a resident there, right?”

“I’d heard it mentioned. He’s that senile?”

“Actually, I don’t think he’s all that senile. His mind seems fairly sound, but his body is shot to hell. Pretty typical for these old farmers. He sure as shootin’ knew your dad passed away. Folks with dementia don’t keep tabs on who’s alive and who’s dead. Anyhow, he asked me several times to call you and get you over there to talk to him. The other aides said he’s been asking for you for a couple days now, but they figured he just wanted to cuss you out over the land deal. So they’ve ignored him.”

I rubbed my eyes thinking that even the hospital staff knew about my business. The joys of small-town living.

“Well, what’s your hit? Is he just out to tell me off?”

“I kinda don’t think so. He whispered to me that he wants to tell you something about the farm and he looked sane as you or me. I thought I should give you the option to decide whether you want to see him or not.” Wayne sounded as puzzled as I was.

“Wow, thanks, Wayne. It’s weird and might conflict with the legal battle, but I’ll seriously consider it. I’m meeting with Billy today to discuss business and we’ll kick the idea around. I appreciate you passing the message along. Anyhow, tell Annie I’ll talk to her tomorrow.”

“Sure, and, Jill, just so you know…Annie and me…we, well…we lead pretty separate lives these days. So…just so you know that, okay?”

“Oh? Okay, Wayne. She never said such a thing to me, but okay. Hey, I’ll see you later.” I couldn’t get off that phone soon enough after that little confession from Wayne.

When I set the phone down after talking to Wayne, I sank to the floor and sat there hugging my guilty anguished belly. Even though I’d done nothing much with Annie, I had spent years fantasizing delectable sexual encounters with her, years imagining myself whisking into Prairie View and rescuing her from her tepid marriage. Had any of this harmed Wayne? Hardly. But I wanted some sanctimonious, fervent-eyed zealot to flog the culpable dickens out of me. That was my favorite guilt-cleansing fantasy, flogging. Was that Catholic or what? I was the most adept mental flagellator in the world.

After several minutes of cerebral self-abuse, I returned to the land of the reasonable and called Billy to set up a meeting. He wanted to come over for a working lunch, mostly, I suspect, to have yet another thawed casserole. I rummaged in the freezer and found one labeled “Thursday Night Special” that came from Mrs. Calendora. Billy could return the Pyrex pan, I decided, and he would sincerely be able to report to her that the food was “yummy,” something I wasn’t sure I could do.