want to play,” said Krystal. “If that’s any consolation.”
“It’s not,” said Laverna. “What are you going to do with that baby?”
“Bert will be home at night,” said Krystal, and at that, Laverna couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Bert was useless, had never held a job. He was not suitable for child care. He had proven to be terrible in emergency situations, not that Laverna thought the baby would be held up in an attempted robbery.
“Of course he will,” said Laverna. “He’s a fucking deadbeat. Put my cigarette out.”
“I’m sorry,” said Krystal.
“You should be,” said Laverna. “Rachel is uncoordinated and mouthy.”
“Perfect for right field,” said Krystal.
“I’d like you to leave now,” said Laverna.
“Okay,” said Krystal. Laverna noticed that Krystal had tears in her eyes, overreacting as usual, as she pushed herself up from the dining room table. Laverna didn’t give a shit. It served her right.
* * *
Her second visitor arrived a half an hour later, and instead of pie, he brought flowers. They were the first flowers she had received, after an entire week of convalescence. She didn’t count the poinsettia from the Chamber of Commerce because Red Mabel had already thrown it into the river.
Jim Number Three presented her with a massive arrangement of lilies and tulips. He must have gone to Ellis for these, as there were no florists in Quinn. Laverna decided that he could stay for more than ten minutes. Plus, his presence might make Red Mabel jealous, and illustrate what could happen when her primary caretaker abandoned her.
“I’m so sorry,” said Jim Number Three. “If I had been there, that kid would’ve been taken down immediately.” He placed the flowers in front of Laverna, and she leaned forward, to smell them.
“Light me a cigarette,” said Laverna.
“I broke both my legs once,” said Jim Number Three. “Fell off a ladder and landed on a wheelbarrow.”
“Jesus,” said Laverna. He gave her a lit cigarette out of his own pack.
“I was in bed for weeks,” he said. “The only thing that saved me from going insane was having my mother read to me.”
“How old were you?”
He had to think about it. “Forty-three,” he said.
“I was kind of hoping I could do the same for you,” he said. “It would be a pleasure to read a book to the prettiest woman in town.”
“That’s kind of strange,” said Laverna. But this entire month had been odd, and he was age appropriate, and vaguely handsome. If he read to her, maybe Red Mabel would try harder.
He helped Laverna to the couch, assisted her in lying down on her back, her casts stiff and pointing at the ceiling, the plaster still so white that it was painful to behold.
He had brought Roots, because it was the longest book he owned, and the word around town was that her recovery was going to take months.
“Never read it,” said Laverna. “Didn’t watch the miniseries, either. To tell you the truth, I wasn’t that interested. We didn’t have slaves in Montana.”
Jim Number Three ignored this statement, sat back in the love seat, and turned to page one.
He finished the first chapter by the time Red Mabel finally returned. As Laverna had hoped, Red Mabel seemed suspicious. She marched straight past them without saying a word, and stomped into the kitchen.
Laverna listened, and could hear Red Mabel eating the entire rhubarb pie.
The Hostage
Bert’s truck was in the driveway, and he was never home when Jake returned from school. He was usually at the bar. This was the new Bert, the one who had the revelation, saved and shaved. No bird shot had touched Bert’s body, and he claimed it a miracle. Although he had avoided its flight, he did have a bruise on his shoulder from when he had encountered Red Mabel in the grocery store. She had punched him for not coming to Laverna’s aid.
Inside the house, Bert sat next to a redheaded man. Instead of beer, the coffee table in front of the couch held two Bibles, side by side, held open with matching macramé bookmarks. Jake removed his snow boots, and the two men watched him silently.
Jake hoped he could make it to his bedroom in continued silence. Unfortunately, the redheaded man stood up and offered his hand. Also unfortunate, because it revealed the monstrosity of the man’s suit, the color of a burnt-sienna crayon. His white shirt was brand-new, spoiled by the tie. Jake liked vintage clothing, but the tie was a disco disaster, much too wide, striped in orange and