Benjamin Browning was Cyndra's father and she was glad she'd finally
told him. Yes-glad to see the expression on his pompous white face
when the full impact struck and he'd realized what he'd done.
Filthy pig. He was no good-only his money saved him from wallowing in
the gutter.
With a deep sigh she recalled the day she'd started work at the
Brownings'. Her mother had answered an ad in the newspaper, and Mr.
Browning had agreed to pay her bus fare from Kansas City if she could
start immediately. "My girl be there," her mother had assured him,
delighted to be rid of one of seven daughters. Her mother had lied and
said she was eighteen. The truth was she was barely fifteen and just
out of school. "Work hard. Stay quiet. Don't get in no trouble."
Those had been her mother's parting words.
Six months after she left home her mother was killed by a drunken
driver. She had no father.
At first Aretha Mae liked working in a house with running water, indoor
toilets and unheard-of luxuries like a refrigerator and TV. But Daphne
Browning was not pleasant to work for. She'd recently given birth to
Stock, and she had no intention of caring for the child unless he was
clean and fresh at all times and never crying. Although she had all
the housework to do, Aretha Mae soon found herself caring for the baby
as well as attending to her other duties.
Benjamin Browning watched her like a tiger stalking its prey. She was
aware of his lecherous eyes and roaming hands, but she managed.
Lbuise had the door open and was proceeding to charm Dr. Sheppard-a
short man with hairy hands, a halo of white hair and big pop eyes. He
was old and crusty and took a lot of charming.
"What's this?" he said, when Nick appeared with Luke in his arms.
"This child is sick," Louise said quickly. "Can you take a look at
him, doc? Please."
"I'm off duty," the miserable old man said.
"I know." Louise kept her voice soft and persuasive. "But I figured
you'd do us this one favor-what with Doc Marshall bein' away an all,
an' you bein' the only doctor left in town." She paused, giving him a
seductive look. "I'm coming in to see you next week. I had those
stomach cramps again, thought you could look me over."
Dr. Sheppard cheered up.
Louise continued to pour it on. "I guess I need another of those uh
.
. . exams you're so good at giving. I felt so much better after the
last time."
"Yes, yes," the old man said. "Bring the boy into the examining
room.
She winked at Nick. He carried Luke into the examining room and laid
him on the cold table.
The doctor bent down and peered at Luke. "This boy is black," he said
indignantly.
So? Nick wanted to say. What the fuck does that matter?
"We thought he was too sick to drive to Ripley," Louise said quickly.
"That's where black people are supposed to go," Dr. Sheppard muttered
bad-temperedly, rubbing his bulbous nose with the tip of his thumb.
"I'm not supposed to look after coloreds."
"Hey-" Nick couldn't help himself. "It's the seventies, for God's
sake, an' we ain't even in the South."
Dr. Sheppard turned to glare at him. "Who are you, young man?
I've never seen you before."
"Thank God for that," Nick muttered, and then loud enough for the
doctor to hear, "I'm his brother."
Dr. Sheppard's bushy eyebrows shot up. "His brother?"
"Just take a look at the kid, will you?"
Ten minutes later they were out of there. "Nothing wrong with the
boy," Dr. Sheppard had said. "All he needs is a good night's sleep
and an aspirin.
Nick didn't believe him, but what could he do? "How about that other
doctor he was talking about-the one in Ripley?" he asked Louise.
She shrugged. "I dunno. Never heard of him. I'm sorry, I gotta get
back to work. Dave's gonna be pissed, you know what he's like."
He dropped Louise off and began the drive to the trailer park.
Maybe the old doctor was right-maybe all Luke needed was rest and an
aspirin.
On the way home he spotted Aretha Mae trudging along the road.
He swerved over to the side.
"What you doin' with your father's van, boy?" Aretha Mae asked
sharply.
Quickly he explained about Luke. She jumped in the back, took one look
at Luke and was as panicked as he was. "I told him not to play out in
the snow," she fretted. "I told him he was gonna catch cold. He's got
something' bad, I know it."
"Yeah," Nick agreed. "That's why I took him to see Dr. Sheppard."
"That dumb old fool-he's no good," she said, shaking her head in
disgust. "He won't treat us-whatever the law says. We gotta take him
to Ripley."
"The roads ain't clear yet. It took hours to get back earlier."
"We have t'go," Aretha Mae said obstinately.
"What about Primo? He don't know I've taken the van."
"Too bad," she said.
He shrugged. "Okay. Ripley it is He drove as fast as he could,
considering the condition of the roads.
Even so, it was midnight by the time they reached Ripley.
Aretha Mae directed him to a house in a rundown neighborhood, and when
he got there she jumped out of the van and rang the bell.
An Indian woman in a said answered the door. She didn't seem at all
surprised to have patients arriving in the middle of the night.
"It's my child," Aretha Mae said. "He be real bad."
"Bring him in," the woman said graciously. "I'll get my husband."
Dr. Singh Amroc was a slightly built Indian man, totally bald with a
thin black mustache. After a cursory examination of Luke he said,
"This boy has pneumonia. It's essential he be admitted to a hospital
at once.
They all set off, crowding into the van, the doctor too.
On the way to the hospital Nick began thinking about Lauren. He hadn't
called her, would she be mad? Girls were funny about things like
phoning when you said you would-but he was sure that when he explained
everything she'd understand.
He wondered if her parents had given her a hard time. He missed her
already and couldn't wait to see her again.
At the hospital he sat in the waiting room with Harlan while the doctor
and Aretha Mae filled out the forms to get Luke admitted.
Harlan stared at his half brother. "Thanks, Nick," he said solemnly.
"You're my best friend."
"Hey-" He shrugged, embarrassed, "It was nothing."
Primo's rumbling stomach awoke him. Bleary-eyed, he groped for the
large clock ticking away on the floor. It was late, very late, and
where the hell was Aretha Mae?
He staggered to his feet, brushed a scurrying cockroach off the side of
the bed and went outside, taking a piss in the nearby brush.
Then he lurched back inside, grabbed a can of beer and sat and
brooded.
After ten minutes he went outside again and kicked open the door of the
kids' trailer. Nobody was around.
"Where the fuck is everybody?" he yelled. "Where the fuck is my
dinner?"
He noticed h
is van was missing. "Goddamnit!" he muttered, making his
way back to the main trailer. The bitch had taken his van and the
kids. The bitch would pay for being home late. Nobody treated him
this way. Nobody kept Primo Angelo waiting and got away with it.
Luke had to stay in the hospital.
"There ain't no way I'm leavin'," Aretha Mae said, her mouth set in a
stubborn line. "No way at all."
"If you're stayin', we're stayin'," Nick said.
"No-you'd best get back. When Primo finds his van's missin' he'll be
mad."
"I'm not going' back without you and Luke."
"Yeah, me too, Ma," Harlan joined in.
"Suit yourself." She was too tired to argue.
"I know a cheap motel," Nick said. "We can all spend the night
there."
"What'll we do about Primo?" Aretha Mae worried.
"I'll call Joey in the morning. He'll stop by the trailer an' tell him
what's going' on."
She nodded. "Good. Now you take Harlan to this motel while I stay
here."
"Why don't we stay with you?"
She shook her head. "No. Don't want Harlan comin' down sick, too.
You go rest up."
Reluctantly he got up. "Well be back first thing tomorrow."
"You got money, boy?"
"Well . . . don't know if I've got enough."
"Here." She rummaged in her purse and counted out fifteen dollars in
worn bills.
"Thanks," he said, pocketing the money. "We'll get back here early."
They left the hospital and drove straight to the motel. The man in the
manager's office recognized him. "You here again?" he said, winking
lewdly. "Must've been a good one."
Nick ignored the comment. "Well be stayin' one night," he said, paying
in advance.
He took Harlan into the room, settled him in front of the television
and hurried to the pay phone. For a moment he stood in the ice-cold
booth wondering if he should phone Lauren at this late hour. No way:
It was even too late to contact Joey-his mother would be seriously
pissed. Shit! There was nothing left to do except go to bed, he'd
call everyone in the morning.
Harlan awoke at six a.m. "I got a bad feeling, my gut hurts," he
whined.
Nick got out of bed and stretched. "Don't worry about it.
Everything's gonna be fine."
Harlan shook his head. "No, it ain't, Nick. It ain't."
"Quit worryin' an' get dressed. We'll get to the hospital early."
Outside the wind was howling. Shivering, Nick pulled up the collar of
his jacket, stuffed his hands in his pockets and ran over to the van.
Harlan followed him and jumped in the passenger seat.
Five minutes later they were standing at the hospital reception desk.
"Luke Angelo," Nick said.
The nurse consulted her admission book. "Ward five, fifth floor."
They took the elevator. At the nurses' station on the fifth floor Nick
asked again, "We're here to see Luke Angelo."
The nurse glanced up. "Relative?" she inquired.
"Yeah. I'm, like . . . uh . . . his brother."
"The doctor is with Mrs. Angelo right now," the nurse said, all
business. "Please take a seat."
"Uh, Luke . . . he's okay, right?"
"Take a seat."
They waited over ten minutes before Aretha Mae appeared, clutching her
thin winter coat-a Brownings cast-off-around her.
Harlan ran down the corridor and threw himself at his mother.
Nick knew it before she said a word. He got up and walked slowly
toward her. His throat was dry and his stomach churning.
Aretha Mae shook her head hopelessly. "He's gone," she said, her voice
no more than a hoarse whisper. "My baby is dead."
Harlan let out a wail that could be heard from one end of the hospital
to the other. It was a sound Nick would never forget.
id Nick call?" Every morning Lauren asked the same question, and every
morning her parents gave her the same stupid answer. "It doesn't
matter whether he did or not. You are never seeing him again."
"I don't care," she replied, her heart beating fast. "I just need to
know."
"It makes a difference to me," she replied, wondering how she had ever
imagined her father to be a kind and sensitive man.
"Then in that case he has not called you."
She didn't know whether they were telling the truth or not. She sat in
her room and brooded. Did Nick consider her easy? Is sex all he'd
wanted? Oh, God, no! Please, God, no!
They'd been so close and now they seemed so far apart. She knew he
didn't have a phone, so she couldn't call him. Not that her parents
would let her get within ten feet of a telephone. They had her trapped
in the house, guarding her as if she was a maximum-security prisoner.
"What have I done that's so terrible?" she asked one day.
"You were engaged to one of the finest boys in town," her father
replied, his face stony. "You should have taken into consideration
that I was doing business with Stock's father before recklessly
breaking off your engagement."
"I didn't realize it was a business arrangement," she muttered.
"You owed it to us to tell your family, not the whole town," her father
said.
She couldn't believe they were being so mean. "I've never done
anything to upset you in my life," she said. "No alcohol, drugs or any
of the things some of the kids at school get into. All I did was
borrow the family car, and you're punishing me like I'm a criminal."
Together-the perfect team-they said in unison, "You have to learn the
hard way, Lauren, or you won't learn at all."
"What will happen when school starts?" she asked. "You can't watch
over me every day then."
"When the new semester commences we hope youl have learned your
lesson," Phil said.
And what if I haven't? What if the first time I see Nick we mn off
together?
As if reading her mind her mother chimed in with, "If you see Nick
Angelo at school, I want your solemn promise you'll have nothing to do
with him."
She crossed her fingers behind her back. "Okay, Mother, if that makes
you happy."
Yeah. Good little Lauren was learning to play the game their way -and
it was their fault.
On her first day back she bumped into Meg on the way to history
class.
"OhmyGod! OhmyGod!" Meg exclaimed excitedly. "I've been desperate to
see you. I've called you dozens of times. I even came by your house
and begged your mom. She wouldn't let me in. What is going on?"
"You tell me," Lauren said. "I've been held prisoner, cut off from
everything."
Meg lowered her voice. "There's been rumors you were pregnant and had
to have an abortion."
"Are you serious? Surely you know what happened?"
"You mean at the New Year's dance?"
"Right-when Stock hit Nick, broke his nose, and I drove him to the
hospital in Ripley. I'm sure you heard we got stuck there overnight,
the roads were closed and we couldn't get back. My parents were" "Oh,"
Meg said, sounding disappointed. "Is that all?"
"Isn't that enough?"
Meg wanted to know more. "What happened with you and Nick?"
"Nothing," Lauren lied. "I was punished for absolutely nothing."
"Nick Angelo is the worst. How come you drove him to the hospital?
Stock's been so upset. Mack and I have tried to look after him but
he's, like, heartbroken." Meg shook her head. "You treated him
badly."
Lauren was incensed. "I treated him badly? How about the way he
carried on?"
Meg continued as if she hadn't heard a word. "Throwing his ring at him
and everything. I heard it was Nick who tried to attack him and that's