P. Parrish - South Of Hell

Shockey looked back at Amy. His red-rimmed eyes studied her face, as if he were desperate to see some indication of how she felt about being his daughter.

Joe decided to help him. He was pitiful.

“Amy, why don’t you tell Mr. Shockey what happened to you when you were in the hospital?”

Amy began her story with her abduction by Brandt in the cornfield. Joe wondered if that part would upset Shockey, but Amy recited it with such quiet poise that Joe decided not to interrupt.

Amy told Shockey that the doctors at the hospital in Howell said she had been dead for three minutes. Shockey’s eyes never left her face.

Her hand came down to the bed to cover his. “I went and saw Momma,” she said. “I wanted to stay with her, but she sent me back to take care of you.”

Shockey turned away from her and focused on the blanket that draped his legs. But Joe could see his eyes well with tears.

“Don’t cry, Mr. Shockey,” Amy said. “She wouldn’t want you to keep being sad.”

Shockey went to wipe his face, but the IV tube taped to his hand caught on the bed rail. He moved to use his other hand, but it was completely wrapped in gauze.

Amy picked a few tissues from a nearby box and dabbed at Shockey’s face. He closed his eyes in embarrassment.

Joe motioned discreetly for Amy to stop. She seemed to understand and wadded the Kleenex in her fist.

“I can leave you my books,” she said. “To give you something to read while you’re in here. Would you like that?”

Shockey seemed grateful for a more mundane subject. “Yeah, sure,” he said. “I like to read.”

Amy removed two books — Little Women and A Tree Grows in Brooklyn — from her backpack and set them on the table.

“Thanks… Amy,” Shockey whispered.

Hearing her name, she smiled shyly. “I don’t know what to call you,” she said.

Shockey looked dumbfounded. “I don’t know, either,” he said. “How about Jake?”

Amy was clearly disappointed in Shockey’s suggestion.

“Can we try Dad?” she asked.

Shockey hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yeah, we can try that.”

Joe asked Louis to take Amy down to the cafeteria. When they had left, Joe came back to Shockey’s bedside.

His eyes were closed.

“Jake?”

It took him a moment to open his eyes. He was sniffling. “I can’t even blow my own fucking nose,” he said.

She gently maneuvered the IV line to free his one good hand. She gave him a Kleenex, and he wiped his nose with a shaking hand.

Joe wondered how much to tell him. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours. Legally, Amy was a Brandt, and the sixty acres belonged to her to do with as she chose. When Joe had asked her what she wanted to do with the farm, Amy hadn’t hesitated.

“Can we sell it? Except the cemetery, I mean. I have kin there.”

Louis contacted the real estate agency in Hell to start the process before the place could be repossessed for taxes. The agent told him a commercial food corporation was buying up the farmland around Hell and that a quick sale was likely. The money from any sale would have to be put in a trust for Amy until she was eighteen. Joe had already contacted a lawyer in Echo Bay to sort that part out. As much as everyone wanted to believe Shockey was Amy’s father, there was still no way to prove it.

“So, you’re bringing Amy back?” Shockey asked.

Joe nodded. “In a month, maybe, when you’re out of here. Your doctors say you’ve got a long road ahead of you with physical therapy.”

Shockey was quiet.

“When you bring her back, is it for a visit or for good?” he asked finally.

“Are you ready for ‘for good’?” Joe asked.

Shockey looked down the length of his body, as if he were surveying the damage.

“I want to be a father to her, but… I’ve screwed up everything I’ve ever done. She deserves someone who will love her, not a selfish asshole like me.”

“You’re all she’s got, Jake.”

He closed his eyes.

“I think you can do this, Jake. Why don’t we take it one step at a time, okay?”

Shockey nodded slowly.

Joe found Louis and Amy in the cafeteria. They were sitting in a booth near a window. Louis had a coffee cup in front of him. Amy had a Coke and Hostess Sno Balls, another new delicacy in her rapidly expanding list of approved food.

Joe slid in next to Louis. To her surprise, he took her hand. The beginning of the goodbye, she knew. She had told him she had to be on the road by eleven in order to make it home before dinner. She needed time to pick up a few things for Amy: extra sheets, pillows, and something else to eat besides yogurt and coffee.

Joe’s eyes drifted to the window. She wished they had said their goodbyes last night back at the hotel, when they were alone. But Amy had been excited about her trip and hadn’t retreated to her adjoining room until well after one a.m. By the time she dozed off, Louis was asleep, too.

It was Joe’s first real sense of what it must be like when a child was a regular part of your life. Everything — from what kind of groceries you bought to when you made love — was rearranged around the needs of someone else.

She turned back to see Louis watching her over the rim of his coffee cup. They had never really talked about him and Lily, either, and she suspected he had much the same thoughts and doubts. But now there was no time to talk about any of it.

“You sure you won’t come with us?” she asked.

As he lowered the cup, his eyes left hers. “I need to get home, Joe. Maybe…”

“What’s a few more days?” she asked. “I’ll be done with the case by Friday, and we can take a day trip somewhere.”

He was quiet. Amy was peeling the rubbery pink frosting from her Sno Ball, discreetly eavesdropping. Joe wondered if she recalled the strange conversation they’d had on the terrace at the hotel.

You can’t see him right now. But you have to just kind of believe. He’s there.

Joe reached across the table to touch his hand. “When can you come?” she asked. “I’d love for you to meet Mike and the others. And see where I live.”

“We’ll see,” he said. “Maybe this summer.”

Joe withdrew her hand and sat back in the booth. She had learned a long time ago that this wasn’t a man who responded to pressure or nagging. And she wasn’t a woman who begged.

She glanced up at the clock over the cash register. “We have to get going,” she said. “Are you ready, Amy?”

She nodded. “I don’t want the rest of this, anyway. It’s too gooey. Can we get a Big Mac on the way?”

“Maybe,” Joe said.

They stood up. Amy grabbed her backpack but instead of cuddling it against her chest, she strapped it over her shoulders the way other teenagers did.

Amy hesitated, then stuck out her hand to Louis.

“Goodbye, Mr. Kincaid,” she said. “Thank you for finding Momma. And thank you for making me come out of the cupboard.”

“You’re welcome, Amy. Very welcome.”

Amy looked at Joe and, with a dip of her head, walked away to leave her and Louis alone. Joe pushed her hair back and faced him.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said. “I guess I’ll see you… whenever.”

“Drive carefully,” he said.

He wrapped a strong arm around her neck and pulled her close and kissed her. There was need in his embrace. And she thought for a moment, he might…

Then he let her go.

Louis ducked through the door of Halo Hats. The same sweet smell and tinkle of the bell greeted him. Grandma Alice was behind the counter. The caftan had been replaced by a purple suit and a matching felt hat adorned with a taffeta bow and a clump of lavender netting.