Bootlegger’s Daughter

I was passed from one familiar bear hug to another, scolded for not coming home more often, told I was getting prettier every day and asked when I was going to quit breaking hearts and settle down.

Some things will never change. Not in eighteen million years.

I gave a mental shrug, said the things they wanted to hear, and hugged everyone back till I suddenly fetched up in the arms of a tall, good-looking man with silver flecks in his thick black hair.

Jed Whitehead.

“Little Debbie,” he gri

Yesterday I’d given a speech to the Civitans and it’d gone well. Especially the question and answer session.

“I had to get back to court,” I said.

True.

I disentangled myself and smiled politely as someone else claimed my attention. “Sorry I missed you.”

Lie.

I’d seen Jed in the audience and I’d also seen him purposefully working his way over to me, which was why I cut out a little more abruptly than was strictly necessary.

Here in the cafeteria, the party was winding down. There was barely enough fading daylight to see by as people began to wander out to their cars. I did the courtesies with the organizers and party officials and moved toward the doorway myself, where my brother Seth stood talking with some neighbors. He put out his arm and gave my shoulder a squeeze as he drew me to his side. “You did good, honey,” he said.

Suddenly feeling tired, I leaned against his comfortable bulk. Seth’s five brothers up from me, but we’ve always been close.

“Hey, congratulations, Jed,” he said.

I hadn’t realized that Jed was right behind me.

“Know you’re real proud of her,” said Seth’s wife, Mi

“Oh, I am, I am,” Jed agreed.

I finally remembered what they were talking about. “Hard to believe Gayle’s old enough to be wi

“Tempus sure keeps on fugiting,” someone observed. “Seems like it was just Christmas and now I’ve already cut my grass three times.”

“We’ve got bluebirds nesting in three boxes,” Mi

Sherry and her boyfriend passed by in the deepening twilight. “We’ll be at the car when you’re ready to go,” she told me.

I promised to visit Seth and Mi

“Let me drive you back to Dobbs,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

I frowned.

“About Gayle,” he said. “She’s got a crazy bee in her bo

For Gayle was a different story. I told Sherry that I had a ride home and to go on without me. Seeing Jed waiting over by his car, she winked at me. Probably thinking Jed and I ought to get back together.

Not that we ever really were together.

I couldn’t say what it was that kept it from happening. God knows I’d had a heavy enough crush on him when I was a kid and he’d been one of that gang of teenage boys that dropped by the farm every weekend to tussle with my brothers over whatever ball was in season.

I was a teenager myself, though still much too young for him, when his first wife was killed; but the gap had narrowed by the time he and Dinah Jean were divorced a year or so ago. We’d had a mild flurry of dates-di

“There is a tide…” said Shakespeare. If so, it must have crested years earlier because being with Jed never quite loosed the floodgates of adult passion. He certainly made all the right moves. There’d even been some heavy breathing after one of Reid’s parties, but that turned out to be the full moon and three of Reid’s Orange Blossom Specials. Sunlight and black coffee soon lowered my pulse rate. I told myself it’d been a case of forbidden fruit, and to test my hypothesis, I let a week pass, then met him for a movie; two weeks, then a concert to show there were no hard feelings. After that, I told Aunt Zell and Sherry to make excuses if he called. He only called once more.

Nobody ever had to draw Jed a diagram.

But I kept a soft spot for Gayle. I was the first sitter Janie had trusted outside her own family, and I’d continued to sit for Gayle after Dinah Jean and Jed were married. There hadn’t been much real contact in the last few years though until Jed and I began seeing each other. I think Gayle wanted me to be stepmother number two, but when it was clear that wasn’t going to happen, she gradually stopped finding excuses to phone.

Actually, I still felt a little guilty about that.

“So what kind of bee’s bugging Gayle?” I asked, when we were in the car and buckling up.

Jed clicked my seat belt into place and switched on the ignition. It was finally full dark and headlights from other cars swept the school parking lot as he pulled out onto the highway and turned the car toward Dobbs.

“She wants to hire a private detective to find out who killed Janie,” he said.

“What?”

“Right.” His handsome face was illuminated by the pale green lights of the dashboard and a worried frown crumpled his eyebrows.

Eighteen years ago, when Gayle was less than three months old, she and Janie had disappeared one rainy gray afternoon in May. It was three days before some field hands heard a baby crying in the loft of an old abandoned gristmill. Gayle was dehydrated and raw bottomed from going all that time with no milk or water and no change of diapers, but an overnight stay in the hospital for observation showed no lasting injuries. Janie’s body was lying on the cold stone floor, her limbs straightened, her hands by her side. She’d been hit over the head and there was a bullet hole behind her right ear.

Jed’s hands clenched the steering wheel. “She says she has to know once and for all who killed her mother, so she can finally put it behind her.”

“But what exactly is there to put behind her?” I asked as cars flashed past us in the opposite lane. “She wasn’t even crawling, for God’s sake. There’s no way she could remember Janie or a thing that happened then.”

“Tell me about it.” He flicked the high beams impatiently as an oncoming car with badly set high beams nearly blinded us. Half the time, these back roads drivers never dim their lights unless you remind them three or four times.

“When she turned sixteen, she said she didn’t want a new car; she wanted me to pay a psychiatrist to hypnotize her and try to regress her back to when it happened.”

“You didn’t do it, did you?” I knew Gayle had a little red Toyota that couldn’t be more than two years old.

“Eight hundred dollars it cost me,” he answered wryly as two more headlights flashed by in the darkness. “On top of her car.”

Well, he’d always been foolish over Gayle from the minute she was born.

“What happened?”

“He got her back to that time she was so sick with a strep throat. You remember?”

I was impressed. “She couldn’t have been much more than what? Eighteen months?”

“Sixteen months and still in her crib,” he confirmed. “But that was as far as he could get her.”

“You going to let her hire the detective?”

“It’s not a matter of letting,” he said. “Now that she’s turned eighteen, she has the trust fund Janie’s dad set up when she was born.”

“But that’s for college-” I started to protest, and then I remembered. “Oh. The scholarship.”