Jeff Abbott - Only Good Yankee

Maybe that’s when they sent the psychiatrist in. I’d just as soon not talk about that part. It was painful to me, and like most men I don’t believe in sharing every thought and feeling that I have. The psychiatrist was a pleasant young fellow with a mightily suppressed drawl who was bound and determined to make sure I didn’t feel guilty about leaving Miss Twyla and Nina. I met with him a few times and let him think he was making progress. I heard hospital gossip that he was also treating Parker Loudermilk for his tendencies to resort to violence when angry. I thought Parker would make a prize project for him, far more interesting than me. Sister told me Jenny had recovered from her suicide attempt. I closed my eyes; that girl must have been in hell. Sister said everyone said Jenny was doing so much better now that she knew her daddy wasn’t a killer. I tried to take some pleasure in that, but it was fleeting; she still had Parker for a dad, which I felt was not an optimal situation. Dee visited me once, bringing flowers in a pot she’d made herself. I was glad to see this pot had no barbed wire. Candace told me that Parker had admitted to finding Greg dead; apparently Nina must have killed Greg shortly before the Loudermilks arrived. According to Junebug, Parker said he’d gone over there with a gun; that’s what Becca had seen him stuffing back in his pocket when he fled the scene. I didn’t want to think about him anymore; I suspected the voters of Mirabeau would soon give me a new boss. So I sat in this introspective stupor for the days that I was in the hospital, not talking much, nodding, smiling, closing my eyes, letting myself be fussed over by the women in my life. I was glad when I got to go home and finally get some rest. Everything else of interest happened one Saturday afternoon when I’d gotten back. Weary of my own bed, I’d used my crutches to get down to the couch, where I’d built my empire of tattered paperbacks and bowls of popcorn, watching old movies on cable. Out of harmless-style spite, I picked up a little silver bell that sat on the coffee table and rang it. It was no lovely French chambermaid who answered my call, but rather a frowning Clo, heavy arms crossed over her barrel chest. “What do you want now? Your damned old pillows been fluffed enough.” “I didn’t want anything from you. I just wanted to talk for a second.” I gestured toward the chair. “Would you sit down?” She sat warily. “I’m glad that Bob Don hired you to look after me, and still help with Mama,” I ventured. “I know we exchanged some harsh words. I think I had a lot of reasons to be angry with you. And you with me.” She stared down at the floor. “But, that’s past. You made a mistake in judgment. I’ve made several myself lately, so I’m not inclined to be critical. So, if you’re still willing to be around here after I’m back on my feet, will you take care of my mother?” She nodded and stood. “That all you wanted to tell me?” “Yeah.” I eased back onto the pillow and fumbled for the remote control. I’d muted Gary Cooper in Sergeant York on American Movie Classics while I’d made amends with Clo. I wasn’t expecting it when she leaned down, kissed my cheek, and hugged me. It was so unlike her I forgot to hug back. “Now, you keep that TV down,” she snapped once my head was back on my pillow. “I’m on my break in the kitchen and I can’t read the National Enquirer with all that jabbering.” “I didn’t know you could read,” I quipped gruffly, more relieved than I’d ever admit that my relationship with her was back to normal. I hadn’t had long to enjoy the movie when Gretchen came calling. She came into the living room, carrying a huge bouquet of flowers that could hide a beehive. She set them down so the giant blossoms blocked my view of the TV and made herself at home in Mama’s chair, curling up like a cat before the mouse hole. “I’m sure you’ll forgive me for not coming to see you in the hospital, Jordy, but the doctors said you needed your rest.” “Oh, I did. Don’t worry about it;

Bob Don was there practically around the clock.” Her smile, pasted on for the visit, winced. “Well, dear, we’re all just so relieved that you’re okay. I must admit that I’m a bit surprised to see Clo still working here. I’d heard you weren’t very happy with her.” “Oh, I wasn’t for a while. But I’m less happy with you, Gretchen.” Her smile stayed pasted on. “Whatever do you mean?” “I mean that I’ve given this some thought. When I found out that Greg had offered Clo all that money to frame me, I thought there must be some reason he really wanted to get me in trouble. I wasn’t suspicious that he was committing fraud until after he was dead, so the land deal wasn’t why he wanted me out. And when I found out he and Lorna had been lovers briefly, I thought he considered me a potential rival. But now I know that he was setting up Lorna to take the blame for his scam, so he wouldn’t have cared about winning her. And I don’t think that a con artist would have easily parted with as much money as he gave Clo, just to get me out of the picture. It just started me wondering who else might have paid cold cash to get me in such an embarrassing amount of trouble.” I wasn’t sure that she was still breathing. “I don’t know what any of this has to do with me, Jordy.” She tried to laugh, and leaned over to rearrange the flowers. “You’re the only person that came to mind, Gretchen. The only one who would have had the money and the desire to see me humiliated with that sort of accusation. Of course, being accused of being the bomber wouldn’t have held up; I’m sure truth would have won out in the end. You got upset when Billy Ray mentioned in front of me that you’d been seen having lunch with Greg. What did you tell him? That for his land deal to work, he’d have to get me out of the picture? That’s not true, but you must’ve made him think so. Anyway, he was a crook to the bone. I’m sure once he knew what your goal was, he probably suggested the plan of action. Maybe he even suggested planting the bomb makings; I’m not sure I’d credit you with that much imagination.” She stood, her frozen smile now thawed into a grimace. “Obviously, you suffered some sort of impairment to your reason after that blast. How unfortunate.” “So why’d you tell me about Clo talking to Greg when the plan didn’t pan out? Because you figured at that point that she intended to keep the money and you wanted to cause more pain to me by exposing her? Of course, with you blowing the whistle, no one would expect that you were the troublemaker behind it all. And with Greg dead, no one could rat on you.” “This is ridiculous. I don’t have to come over and hear this abuse when I came to visit you on an errand of mercy.” She fumbled in her purse for her keys. “Of course, you have no proof of this.” “No, I don’t, Gretchen,” I said softly. “But don’t think you can ever hurt me again. You can’t. So just give up this stupid war against me. You ever, ever try anything like this again and I will nail your ass to the wall. You try to hurt me, or anyone in my family, or anyone I care about, I will ruin you in this town, utterly, completely, totally. As long as we understand each other, I think we’ll be fine.” She toyed with one of the pillows on the couch, and I thought she’d like nothing better than to shove it over my face and watch me squirm for air for a while. Instead, she patted my cast, a little harder than necessary. “You take care, Jordy. I’m sure you’ll be feeling much better about all this unpleasantness real soon.” Her departure left me feeling more energized than I had in days. I sat back and watched Gary Cooper keep the world safe for democracy. I dozed for a bit, then there was the clatter of footsteps and mild cursing on the stairs. Lorna, coming down, carrying a suitcase. I hate goodbyes. She tossed her bag on Mama’s chair and sat down next to me, gently pushing my leg out of the way. She examined my cast gingerly.