take her off active duty?'
'Because it would kill her,' he answered, and he knew this was true. Lena needed her job like other people needed air.
'Is there something else?'
Jeffrey thought about the conversation he'd had with Lena in the car. She had not been exactly sure of herself when she told him the shot was clean. 'I, uh,' he began, not knowing how to say this. 'When I talked to Lena yesterday…' he said.
'Yeah?'
'She didn't seem too sure about what had happened.'
'About the shooting?' Sara demanded, obviously irritated. 'What exactly did she say?'
'It wasn't what she said so much as how she said it.'
Sara mumbled something that sounded like a curse. 'She's just playing with you to get back at me.'
' Lena 's not like that.'
'Of course she is,' Sara shot back. 'She's always been like that.'
Jeffrey shook his head, not accepting this. 'I think she's just not sure.'
Sara mumbled a curse under her breath. 'That's just great.'
'Sara,' Jeffrey said, trying to calm her down. 'Don't say anything to her, okay? It'll only make it worse.'
'Why would I say anything to her?'
'Sara…' He rubbed sleep from his eyes, thinking he did not want to talk about this now. 'Listen, I was just fixin' to go to the hospital-'
'This really ticks me off.'
'I know that,' he said. 'You've made it clear.'
'I just-'
'Sara,' he interrupted. 'I really need to go.'
'Actually,' she said, moderating her tone, 'I was calling for a reason, if you've got a minute?'
'Sure,' he managed, feeling a sense of trepidation. 'What's up?'
He heard her take a deep breath, as if she were about to jump off a cliff. 'I was wondering if you'll be back tonight.'
'Late, probably.'
'Well, then, how about tomorrow night?'
'If I come back tonight, I won't have to come back tomorrow night.'
'Are you being dense on purpose?'
He played back their conversation in his mind, smiling when he realized that Sara was trying to ask him over. Jeffrey wondered if she had ever done something like this in her life.
He said, 'I've never been very bright.'
'No,' she agreed, but she was laughing.
'So?'
'So…' Sara began, then she sighed. He heard her mumble, 'Oh, this is so stupid.'
'What's that?'
'I said,' she started again, then stopped. 'I'm not doing anything tomorrow night.'
Jeffrey rubbed his whiskers, feeling the grin on his face. He wondered if there had ever been a time in this room when he had felt happier. Maybe the day he got the call from Auburn, saying he could go to college for free in exchange for getting the shit beaten out of him on the football field every Saturday.
He said, 'Hey, me neither.'
'So…' Sara was obviously hoping he would fill things in for her. Jeffrey sat back down on the bed, thinking hell would freeze over before he helped her out.
'Come over to my house,' she finally said. 'Around seven or so, okay?'
'Why?'
He could hear her chair squeak as she sat back. Jeffrey imagined she probably had her hand over her eyes.
'God, you are not going to make this easy, are you?'
'Why should I?'
'I want to see you,' she told him. 'Come at seven. I'll make supper.'
'Wait a minute-'
She obviously anticipated his problem with this. Sara was not exactly a good cook. She offered, 'I'll order something from Alfredo's.'
Jeffrey smiled again. 'I'll see you at seven.'
As a boy, Jeffrey had done his share of stupid things. His two best friends from elementary school to high school had lived down the street from him, and between Jerry Long, a boy with a curiosity about fireworks, and Bobby Blankenship, a boy who liked to hear things explode, they had managed to risk their lives any number of times before puberty took hold and girls became more important than blowing things up.
At the age of eleven, the three had discovered the pleasure of exploding bottle rockets in a steel drum behind Jeffrey's house. By the time they were twelve, the drum was as dented and pockmarked as Bobby 'Spot' Blankenship's face. By the time they were thirteen, Jerry Long had been given the name 'Possum' because, when the drum had finally exploded, a piece of shrapnel had nearly sliced off the top of his head, and he had lain in Jeffrey's backyard like a possum until Jean Harris had called an ambulance to take him to the hospital, and the police to scare the bejesus out of Jeffrey and Spot.
Jeffrey had not earned his nickname until later, when he had started to notice girls and, more important, they had started to notice him. Like Possum and Spot, he was on the football team, and they were pretty popular in school because the team was winning that year. Jeffrey was the first of the trio to kiss a girl, the first to get to second base, and the first to finally lose his virginity. For these accomplishments, he was given the nickname 'Slick.'
The first time Jeffrey had taken Sara to Sylacauga, he had been so nervous that his hands would not stop sweating. They had just started dating, and Jeffrey had been under the impression that Sara was a little too socially elevated for Possum and Spot, and more than likely for ol' Slick as well. Sylacauga was the epitome of a small Southern town. Unlike Heartsdale, there was no college up the street, and no professors in town to add some diversity to the mix. Most of the people who lived here worked in some kind of industry, whether it was for the textile mill or the marble quarry. Jeffrey was not saying they were all backward, inbred hicks, but they were not the kind of people he thought Sara would be comfortable hanging around.
Sara wasn't just what the locals would call 'book learned,' but a medical doctor, and her family might have been blue collar, but Eddie Linton was the kind of man who knew how to manage a dollar. The family owned property up and down the lake, and even had some rental units in Florida. On top of that, Sara was sharp, and not just about books. She had a cutting wit, and wasn't the kind of woman who would have his slippers and a hot meal waiting for him when he got home from work. If anything, Sara would expect Jeffrey to have these things ready for her.
About six miles from the Tolliver house, there was a general store
