Summer was a little worse. We never had air-conditioning so we didn’t expect to stay cool even when the electricity was on, but running out of ice for our tea and soft drinks was a problem. And two days were about as long as you could trust food from the refrigerator in hot weather.
I emptied the ice bin into a plastic bag so that my icemaker would make a fresh batch. And I dutifully filled my tub, kettle, and a couple of pots with water since I had no empty plastic jugs on hand.
Daddy drove through the yard with my newspaper and said I ought to come over and stay at the homeplace till the hurricane had passed.
I pointed out that my new house had steel framing and was guaranteed to hold up under winds of a hundred and seventy miles an hour, “So maybe you should spend the night with me.”
“Mine’s stood solid through a hundred years of storms and Hazel, too, and it ain’t never even lost a piece of tin.” The mention of tin must have reminded him of the house trailer Herman’s son Reese was renting from Seth because he added, “Reese is gonna come. And Maidie and Cletus.”
Now a hurricane party was a tempting thought and I told him I’d let him know.
After he left and before someone else could tie up my line, I picked up the phone to call Kidd even though he was probably already gone. And then I put it back down again, more than a little annoyed. After all, shouldn’t he be worried about me? The way Fran was lining up, Colleton County was just as likely to get hit as New Bern. Couldn’t he find a spare minute to see if I was okay?
No?
Then he could damn well wonder.
With all the distractions, I was halfway to Dobbs before I remembered Clara Freeman’s purse and Lashanda’s doll. No time to go back for them if I wanted to check past the hospital before going to court.
* * *
At Dobbs Memorial, it was only a few minutes past eight but the intensive care unit’s waiting room was jammed with Balm of Gilead members. A couple of Ralph Freeman’s colleagues from the middle school where he taught were there, along with some ministers from nearby churches. I greeted those I recognized and learned that Clara Freeman was in critical but stable condition. They had operated on her early this morning to relieve the pressure on her brain but it was too soon to make predictions, although Ralph was with the surgeon now.
Mingled with the hospital smells of antiseptics and floor wax were the appetizing aromas of hot coffee and fast-food breakfast meals—sausage biscuits from Hardee’s, Egg McMuffins, and Krispy Kreme doughnuts— nourishment for people who’d evidently been here since Mrs. Freeman was brought in last night.
Stan and his little sister were seated against the far wall and I went over to them.
“Stan, Lashanda, I’m so sorry about your mother.”
“Thank you, Miss Deborah,” the boy said.
Before he could say anything else, the large elderly man who sat beside him said, “Stanley, will you introduce this lady to me?”
It may have been couched as a request, but the tone sounded awfully like an order to me.
“Yes, sir. This is Judge Deborah Knott,” he said with touching formality. “Miss Deborah, this is my grandfather, the Reverend James McElroy Gaithers.”
“Judge?” He looked faintly disapproving. Because I was a judge? (
“Yes, sir,” I said. “District Court. And you’re Mrs. Freeman’s father?”
“I am.”
There are many preachers who prefer the Old Testament to the New and the Reverend James McElroy Gaithers was clearly one of them. For him, I was pretty sure that the dominant element of the Trinity would be God the stern father of retribution, not Jesus the forgiving son.
“You’re from Warrenton, I believe?”
He nodded magisterially.
“It’s a sad thing that brings you down here,” I commiserated. “I’m really sorry.”
“My daughter is in the hands of the Lord,” he said. “His will shall be done.”
At the old man’s words, Stan looked stricken and little Lashanda simply looked miserable. Was there no one to rescue the children from this Jeremiah and give them true comfort? Where was Clara Freeman’s good friend that Ralph had mentioned last night? Rosa Somebody? Surely she was somewhere in this crowd and with a hint dropped into her ear, maybe she would—
Stan’s face suddenly brightened at the sight of someone behind me and I turned to see Cyl DeGraffenried.
I had to hand it to her. For a woman who was falling apart the last time I saw her, she was in complete control now, poised and professional in a crisp hunter green linen suit with soft white silk blouse and matching low-heeled pumps. Her hair fell in artful perfection around her lovely face and pearls gleamed coolly at her throat and earlobes.
She spoke to Stan and Lashanda, was introduced to their grandfather, immediately sized up the situation and said to him in solicitous female tones, “I know you’ll want to speak privately with the doctor when he comes, so why don’t the Judge and I take your grandchildren out for some fresh air and breakfast?”
Both children immediately stood up as Cyl looked at me brightly. “Deborah?”
“Sure,” I said, trying not to look as taken aback as I actually was.
My court session was technically due to start at nine, but by the time most ADAs finish working out their plea bargains and stipulations, things seldom get moving much before nine-thirty or a quarter till ten, so we had more
