Stepping to a New Day by Beverly Jenkins
As dawn broke, Riley hadn’t gotten much sleep due to the throbbing in his nose, so he got out of bed and padded into the connecting bathroom. The mirror told him what he already knew. Both eyes were still as black and blue as the huge bruise spanning the bridge of his nose. Were it Halloween he could pose as a raccoon. He wanted to sue Trent July for his pain and suffering but Eustacia’s big-time lawyer told him to forget it because once a jury learned that Riley used Trent’s name to commit a felony, he’d lose the case on the spot. Never one to accept blame, Riley proceeded to argue with the lawyer until the man hung up. Granted, Riley didn’t feel so clever now that the car dealership wanted him thrown in jail but self-reflection was also something he disliked, so he turned his mind to another pressing matter—finding a place to stay. At present he was bunking with his old pal Clay Dobbs. Clay’s housemate, Bing Shepard, was down south visiting relatives but once he returned Riley was certain the old man would have him kicked out. Eustacia’s lawyer and Sheriff Dalton advised him not to leave town. Cletus was making himself at home in one of Clay’s pens but if Riley was forced to leave where would they go? His only hope was that the interior of Eustacia’s partly built mansion looked better than the outside and he could stay there.
“So what did the lawyer say last night?” Clay asked as they ate breakfast.
Riley told him everything including the part about being warned off suing Trent.
“The lawyer’s probably right,” Clay noted.
“No, he’s not. I want July charged with assault and I want him to pay for my pain and suffering.”
“You tell the lawyer that?”
“I did. Argued with him until he hung up on me.”
“Using Trent’s name was not a good idea.”
Riley ignored that and concentrated on eating his eggs.
Clay took a sip of coffee. “So, what’s your next move?”
“You still seeing Genevieve?”
Clay paused and said finally, “No.”
“Why not?”
“She’s turned herself into one of those feminists who doesn’t need a man. Even bought herself a mobile home.”
Riley looked up. “Really?”
“Says she’s going to put it where the old house used to be. She’s also keeping time with Gary Clark’s uncle.”
“Who?”
Clay explained and finished by saying, “She said it was only lunch but I think something more’s going on.”
By then Riley was only half listening. He was thinking about her trailer. If he could finally convince her to own up to the error of her ways, maybe her guilt would allow him and Cletus to move back in. “She still staying with Marie?”
Clay nodded.
“Maybe after we check out Eustacia’s place I’ll stop in and see her. For old times’ sake.”
Clay looked suspicious but Riley was too busy forming a plan to notice.
After breakfast, while Clay cleaned up the kitchen—Riley didn’t offer to help—Riley took Cletus a large mixing bowl of his favorite rice cereal that he’d had Clay buy at the grocery store. “Here’s your breakfast, big boy.”
Cletus trotted over and Riley slid the bowl beneath the bottom rung of the pen and set it on the ground. While the hog ate, Riley said, “Going to see Genevieve later.”
Cletus raised his head and squealed.
“I know,” Riley said. “I don’t want to see her either but we need somewhere to live. Clay’s not going to let us stay here much longer and she’s getting her own place. This whole mess is her fault, and once I explain it to her she’ll let us come back.”
Riley heard a horn blow. It was Clay in his truck. “Okay, I have to go. You be good.”
The ride over to Eustacia’s took only a few minutes. The last time he’d seen the place he’d been too tired to really take it in and now as he and Clay approached the porch, he swore the front door was different. “What happened to the other door?”
“Had to be replaced.”
To Riley’s surprise Clay had a key. “Where’d you get a key?”
“Trent.”
Before Riley could ask about that, Clay had the door opened. Riley followed him inside and for a moment all he could do was gape. The walls looked like someone had gone at them with sledgehammers. The carpets were ripped up as were the floorboards underneath. Ceiling fans lay like dead insects amidst piles of broken plaster, splintered wood, and shattered glass. “What happened?”
“People tore the place up looking for gold.”
“What!”
So Clay explained about Cephas Patterson finding outlaw Griffin Blake’s hidden stash of gold coins. “Last fall, when word got out, every treasure hunter within five hundred miles came to town looking for more.”
“And they came here?” Riley asked.
Clay nodded. “Probably because the place looked abandoned. They broke into Patterson’s place and trashed it. The new recreation center was hit, too. By the time the police showed up and put a stop to it, the damage had been done.”
A grim Riley said, “Let’s see the rest.” Stepping carefully because of all the broken glass, they continued the tour and he stared around in shock at the gutted kitchen. “Where are the appliances?” The fancy stainless steel double oven and its companion fridge were nowhere to be seen. All the high-end sink fixtures were missing, too.
“Looted. When the rioters didn’t find any gold they took whatever they could, including Eustacia’s appliances, air conditioner, furnace, and hot water heater.”
Riley wanted to cry. “Why didn’t somebody let me know?”
“You didn’t leave a forwarding address, remember.”
It was apparent that he and Cletus couldn’t live there. Moving in with Genevieve was the only option. It was either that or pitch a tent and live outdoors, and he didn’t own a tent or anything else for that matter. “Take me by Marie’s so I can talk to Genevieve.”
“She’s not going to take you back, Riley.”
“Who said anything about that? I just want to say hello.”
“Uh-huh. Instead of trying to bamboozle your way back into her life, you might want to look for a job. There’s a new beauty shop in town run by Kelly Douglas. She’d probably let you rent a chair if you want to go back to barbering. The men here could use you.”
“I’ll think about it,” he said, but in truth he wasn’t. He just wanted to get back into Genevieve’s good graces and maybe get access to her bank account again. “You driving me over to Marie’s or not?”
Clay assessed him stonily. Riley sensed he wasn’t liking the idea of him seeing Genevieve again even if they had broken things off, but he didn’t care. She was his ex-wife and he had every right to see her if he wanted.
“Okay,” Clay said finally. “Let’s go, and just so you’ll know, Marie’s got a bug up her butt. Don’t expect a friendly greeting from her, either.”
Riley and Marie had never gotten along, so he didn’t care.
On the drive over Riley racked his brain for a Plan B just in case he couldn’t count on Genevieve’s guilt. He thought back on how and where they first met and how much of a big shot she’d thought him to be and he knew he had her. Upon arriving at the Jefferson homestead, he puffed himself up. He and Genevieve hadn’t parted on the best of terms but their forty years of marriage had to count for something. She’d take him back, he just knew she would.
Clay asked, “You want me to wait?”
“No.”
“If she knocks you out again, have somebody call me.”
“Ha. Ha.” Putting on his shades, Riley left the truck and Clay drove away.
On the porch, Riley pressed the doorbell. Seconds later, the white lace curtains in the front window moved then dropped back. Someone was home. He waited. Nothing. He pressed the bell again. Still no response. He leaned forcefully on the bell for a good ten seconds. The door was snatched open and there stood Marie.
“What do you want?”
“Came to see Genevieve.
“She’s not here.” The door slammed closed.
Hopping mad, he laid on the bell again, but when she didn’t respond, he sighed in surrender. It occurred to him that maybe he should have had Clay wait. He now had no way to get back and no phone. Although it was a cloudy day, the temperature wasn’t bad, so he took a seat on the top step to wait for Genevieve’s return. He just hoped she wasn’t out of town.
Genevieve was just leaving her tutoring session with Mrs. Rivard over in Franklin. TC stood waiting next to the car.
“Ready?” he asked as she approached.
“I am.”
He bowed elaborately and gestured for her to enter. She laughed and took her seat up front. A few seconds later he got in. No matter how hard she tried to dismiss it, riding beside him still made her feel like a teenager on her first date.
He started the car and headed them back toward Henry Adams. “How’d the lesson go?”
“It went well,” she told him. “She’s almost at the point of not needing my help and that’s the goal. I’m very proud of her.”
“How long have you been working with her?”
“About six weeks.”
“Is that average?”
“It depends on the person. When I took the training, I was told it could be as fast as a month or as long as six. Some students are very motivated and some are fearful.”
“I see.”
Something in his tone made her look his way. “Something wrong?”
“Nope. Just thinking about Mrs. Rivard. I imagine it took a lot of courage for her to ask for help.”
“It did. She couldn’t read at all when we first got together.”
“Did she say what made her decide she wanted to learn?”
“Yes. She wanted to be able to read to her new grandchild. She hadn’t been able to with her daughter.”
“That’s pretty powerful.”
“It is.”
As always he had the jazz station on and a nice guitar tune began to play. “I like that,” she said. The display on the dash showed the name of the tune and the artist.
TC said, “Since I’m supposed to be keeping my eyes on the road, who’s it by?”
“Lee Ritenour. Song is called ‘Windmill.’ Says it’s from his World of Brazil CD.”
“I’ll have to get that.”
Gen took out her phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Downloading it.”
He chuckled. “You’re something else.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“That’s how it was meant to be taken.”
She glanced up from her phone. His praise made her feel good inside and she said quietly, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For taking me seriously.”
“How could I not?”
She shrugged. “Remember those irreconcilable differences I mentioned the day we had lunch?”
“I do.”
“My doing things like downloading music was one of them.”
“Huh?”
“I was told I was trying to act like I was twenty-five and it wasn’t becoming.”
“That doesn’t make much sense.”
“I agree,” she said firmly.
“As we used to say back in the day, I think you’re very cool, Ms. Genevieve Gibbs. Don’t change yourself for anybody. Okay?”
“I don’t plan to.”
“Good. Let the haters hate.”
“Amen.”
They rode the rest of the way to Henry Adams listening to the music in a companionable silence. Gen found herself enjoying his company more and more.
He turned the car into the drive. Upon seeing Riley sitting on the top step, she groused, “Oh, good lord.”
“What’s wrong?”
“That’s Riley on the porch.”
“Who’s Riley?”
“My ex-husband.”
“The pig guy?”
“Yes.”
He leaned forward to check him out. “Day’s a little cloudy for shades.”
“He’s wearing them to hide the black eyes he got from Trent.”
TC looked confused.
“I’ll explain later, or better yet, have Gary tell you about it.”
“Okay, but I take it you weren’t expecting him?”
“No.”
“I thought you said he was in LA. Why’s he here?”
“Obviously wants something. Always does.” She opened the door.
“You going to be okay talking to him?” he asked with concern. “Do I need to stick around?”
“I’ll be fine, but thanks for the offer.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am. You go on and do whatever you were planning to do.”
“I was planning on asking you to have lunch with me.”
Gen eyed him and wondered if she’d ever breathe again. “Really?”
Smiling softly, he offered a small shrug.
“I’d like that.” She forced herself to stop staring. “Can you wait while I take my tote inside?”
“For as long as it takes.”
Filled with wonder, she left the car.
“Who’s that?” Riley had the nerve to demand. He peered past her, trying to see into the car.
“Why are you here?”
“I came to see you.”
“Why?”
“Just wanted to see how you were.”
“I’m fine.” She walked by him to the door and took out her key.
“That the fella Clay says you’re seeing?”
“That’s none of your business or Clay’s.”
“I’m only asking because I don’t want you to be taken advantage of.”
“Something you know all about, right?” She wanted to sock him and send him flying off the porch.
“Look, Genevieve. I—”
“No, you look,” she said, cutting him off. “You stole thousands of dollars from me, and the only reason I couldn’t put you in jail was because your name was on the account and the bank said I had no concrete proof you took it without my permission.”
“But Genevieve—”
“Don’t say another word to me, Riley Curry. You stole from me. You chose that damn hog over me. You even married another woman while you were still married to me. Go ’way. I don’t want you in my life.” That said, she went inside.
Marie was waiting. “What’s he want?”
Gen was seething. “Probably money or a place to stay. I didn’t ask.”
“Why’s Morgan Freeman still out front?”
Gen was putting her tote in the closet and upon hearing that she stopped and turned back. “Morgan Freeman? Really, Marie? This is why I’m moving.”
Without another word, she slammed the closet door and sailed back outside.
Riley was still there. He opened his mouth but the glare she shot him made him rethink whatever he was planning to say and she stormed past.
Inside the car she was sure steam was curling out of her ears. “Can we go, please, before I punch something?”
“That mad, huh?”
“Madder. Riley’s an idiot and so is Marie.”
“Who’s Marie?”
“The woman I live with. We’ve been friends all our lives but she’s lost her mind. She just called you Morgan Freeman.”
He chuckled. “Driving Miss Daisy?”
“Yes!”
“It’s okay. I’ve been called worse. I didn’t know you could get this angry.”
“The last time I did, I punched Riley so hard I knocked him out and broke a bone in my hand.”
He barked a laugh. “Really? Whoa.”
“At the Dog in front of everybody, including his so-called wife. Riley’s a bigamist too, you know.”
“Wait. What?”
She nodded.
“Lots of drama going on for such a little town,” he said, studying her.
“You have no idea.”
“You sti
“Please, but do you mind if we get a takeout and go someplace quiet. I need to calm down.”
“Whatever you want.”
“Thank you.”
Gen called ahead so she didn’t have to wait long for their order to arrive at the desk. Once it was paid for and the speculation on Mal’s face ignored she returned to the car.
“So where to?” he asked.
“Let me make a call.” Once she did, she gave him directions.
CHAPTER
9
When they reached their destination, he took in the large old house surrounded by open land and asked, “Where are we?”
“The July homestead. Park here and we can walk down to the creek. There’s a picnic table there.”
They left the car and covered the short distance across the open land to the creek. As they sat, he said, “Nice spot.”