'It's in a two-hour parking spot at the bank,' he answered. 'He must have ridden out to the Montano place with Shelby or Jimmy. I saw both Howards heading into the bank yesterday morning.'
She nodded. Everyone in town knew the sheriff observed folks passing on Main Street from his window with the same intensity that a sailor studies the sky.
'Don't worry about Kevin's car,' Farrington finally mumbled. 'I'll see it doesn't get ticketed. You can deal with it after you've had some sleep.'
'Thank you.' Meredith slowly closed the door, thinking maybe she could sell the car to help pay expenses.
Kevin wouldn't want anyone to know money was tight. Over the years she had seen him insist on paying, or throw money into a pot even when he knew it would run them short for the month. Once he had given a hundred dollars to help send the extras on the basketball team to the state tournament. The boys made it to Austin, but Meredith and Kevin ate macaroni and cheese for three weeks. That was the year they were so broke they got religion. The Baptist church had a young couples' dinner every Wednesday. For all couples under thirty there was no charge, the church's way of helping young folks get started.
She could continue to play the game alone. Meredith closed her eyes and reminded herself one more time to keep breathing.
'Our money is nobody's business but ours.' She could almost hear Kevin saying.
'But mine,' she corrected.
Across town, money also pestered Helena Whitworth' mind. She wrote two checks to her daughters. Since she had got home from the hospital, they had worried about little else except the fact they had nothing black to wear to J.D.', funeral.
Paula and Patricia were fraternal twins born to Helena when she was still in her teens. Paula was the brightest of the pair. If one can compare the brightness of flannel. She managed to fail two years of college before dropping out. Patricia quit her first semester because the books were too heavy to carry across campus.
'You don't have to do this, Momma.' Paula blew the ink dry on her check. 'I could have charged what I needed at Sears. I know how important it is for you to have us dress properly and there is never anything in Helena's Choice in our size.'
Patricia fidgeted impatiently. 'I'm sorry I have to run, but Bill's home waiting up. He says he can't sleep without me beside him in bed. You know how it is.' She took her check then glanced up at her mother. 'I'm sorry, Momma. I didn't think. I'll get someone to keep the baby tomorrow and come over and help you.'
'That won't be necessary.' Helena tried, as always, to keep her words kind, not out of fondness, but out of selfpreservation. When the girls were upset, whining leaked into every word they communicated.
'Oh, Momma, I don't mind coming to help.' Patricia lifted the three-year-old she still called 'the baby.' He'd had a plug in his mouth so long Helena sometimes wondered if it were a birth defect.
'You need to get rid of J.D.'s things, Momma, as soon us possible. It's not healthy to keep them around making you sad and all. Bill could probably wear some of those golf shirts on his Saturday runs. They're not real strict about the uniform then.'
'Harry is J.D.'s shoe size,' Paula interrupted. 'Don't go giving his shoes away until Harry tries them on. We'll be over first thing tomorrow, too.'
Helena closed her eyes, thinking of something J.D. used to say. 'Even the bottom of the gene pool rises after a rain.' It must have flooded the day she conceived. Though she loved her daughters dearly, they were a trial. Paula forever bossy, Patricia forever needy.
Both always wanted to help her. They meant well, but Helena hated discussing decisions that were hers to make. J.D. understood that about her. She was a woman who knew her own mind and did not need to take a poll to determine her actions.
'What are you going to do with all those hats he's got?' Patricia shook her head. 'They're not even proper to give the Salvation Army-the ones he wore in the Marines. You know, the ones he always made us call `covers' instead of hats.'
Paula snorted a laugh. 'Can't you just see the homeless wandering the streets wearing a colonel's hat? And the old things he wore to watch birds wouldn't be fit for fishing.'
Helena had had enough. She headed toward the door.
Like puppies hearing the paper being rolled, both girl looked suddenly guilty. 'We're sorry, Momma,' they chimed. 'We didn't mean to hurt your feelings.'
Both opened their arms to hug Helena, but then decided it would be safer to hug each other. Between ample bodies and ample breasts, they looked like huge Humpty Dumpty toys trying to dance but only succeeding in wobbling.
'I'm really going to miss the old guy,' Paula cried on her sister's shoulder. 'He wasn't so bad once we got used to the sin of Momma marrying him.'
Paula never missed a chance to remind Helena that she and J.D. were first cousins. Everyone in town seemed to have forgotten except 'One-track Paula.'
'I'll miss him, too,' Patricia added, but from the confused expression in her eyes, she couldn't remember any sin. 'Even if I didn't understand what he was talking about half the time. He was always naming some place I never heard of like it was important and I should drop everything and go home and look it up on a map.'
'Good night, girls.' Helena held the door open as her offspring hurried out. They were her flesh and blood. The only part of her that would live on in this world. But they did not hold her heart. No one had until J.D.
Both daughters stood on the front step when she spoke again. 'No one…I repeat, no one, touches J.D.'s things.'
They looked at her as if they felt sorry for their mothers inability to face the facts.
Helena tried to keep her anger in check. 'If either of yew do, you will never be welcome in this house again.'
'Oh, Momma, you don't mean…'
'I mean every word. J.D.'s things stay untouched.' Helena closed the door, wishing she could talk to her daughters without getting angry.
She walked slowly up the staircase to the bedroom that had been hers and J.D.'s for over ten years. His things surrounded her. Welcomed her. She closed her eyes and relaxed for the first time since the call from the hospital.
His robe hung on the door, his reading glasses were on an open book, his running shoes lay between the chairs by the window. He couldn't be gone. She could still smell him near. Still feel the warmth of his gaze watching her. Sometimes when they were sitting side by side, paying no attention to one another as they read or watched the birds, Helena would match her breathing to his. If she were still enough she knew she could do that now.
'Don't leave me, Cousin,' she whispered across the shadows. 'Don't leave me alone.'
Helena closed her eyes and forgot about all that happened. The nightmare of reality ended. Need brought in the dream.
In the stillness of their room she heard him whisper, 'I'm right here. Waiting. Come here, Hellie.'
Helena slipped beneath the covers and into the arms of the only man she ever loved. His chest was bare and hair tickled her nose as it always did. His arm was strong about her. The smell of his aftershave blended with his favorite brand of pipe tobacco.
'Don't go just yet,' she pleaded. 'I couldn't bear it.'
She felt his gentle kiss on her forehead. 'I'll be right here as long as you need me. Remember when I came back? I gave you that silver dollar your mother had given me to take to war for luck. I promised I'd never leave you alone. Let the storm come, Hellie, let it come. You'll always have my arms to protect you.'
There were folks who believed God put oil in Texas because it was the only place on earth where the rigs could be seen as an improvement on the landscape. On a windy day tumbleweeds would blow into the eaves of a rig making it look like a skeleton Christmas tree covered in huge, hideous ornaments.
