Your Cheatin Heart

Chapter Eighteen

I screamed, but no sound escaped my throat. The scream stuck, with the unshed tears of terror in my chest, squeezing the breath from my body. The phone line had gone dead, the connection severed. Somewhere someone had just threatened my daughter.

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. Instead I made jabbing motions at the keypad, trying to dial Vernell's number and failing to remember it.

"Damn it!" I cried. Cletus, who'd wandered up to help collect the cover charge and check IDs, stopped what he was doing, alerted by my tone.

"What's the matter, Maggie?" he asked, but I couldn't stop to answer. I had to go. I had to get to Sheila.

I pushed past him, running now, from the Golden Stallion entrance to the back. I know I shoved someone out of my way, when I heard a surprised, angry cry echoing behind me. I heard footsteps following me, but I didn't stop until I reached the dressing room and had grabbed my purse and keys.

"Maggie, stop!" It was Jack, his face concerned. He grabbed my arm and held me. "Take a breath."

"Let go of me," I screamed, wrenching my arm away. "He's going to hurt Sheila!"

I was running again, with Jack right behind me. "Who? Maggie, stop! What is it? Wait!"

But I was gone, the mother in me taking over. I had to get to Sheila. My voice was screaming her name over and over in my head. It throbbed, pulsing with my heartbeats, stronger and louder. I had to find my little girl. I slammed the car into gear, tearing out onto High Point Road, screaming at the cars that got in my way.

It was after midnight on a Thursday night, a school night. Sheila should be at Vernell's, in bed, sleeping. I drove, talking to myself, careening down Holden Road, cutting across Greensboro in search of my baby. I issued instructions, like "Don't hit that car!" I screamed at other drivers, and finally I prayed. "Don't let my baby get hurt. Be with Sheila! Protect her!" The tears came then, filling my eyes. But I couldn't cry, not now.

I made it across town in five minutes, flying down Vernell's darkened cul-de-sac and screeching to a halt in front of his garage doors.

Sheila's black Mustang sat in the driveway. That wasn't good enough, not by a long shot. I raced from the car to the front door, pounding on it, ringing the doorbell and trying the handle.

"Open this door!" I cried. "Vernell!"

But it was Sheila herself who answered. She was dressed for bed in her long white T-shirt, her face scrubbed pink, and an expectant look on her face. She was not at all frightened or cautious, as she should have been. She never should have opened the door.

I flew into her, pushing her backward into Vernell's expansive foyer, slamming the door behind us.

"Oh, my God, Sheila!" I cried, sinking down with her onto one of the steps that led to the second floor of Vernell's house.

"Are you all right?" I asked. I pulled her to me, holding her as tightly as I possibly could. My breath came in ragged gasps and dry sobs that I couldn't control.

Sheila was scared now.

"Mama, what's wrong?"

Above us, lights flared on, doors opened, and footsteps started down the hall.

"What in the hell is she doing here?" Jolene asked. She stood at the top of the steps in a filmy white negligee.

Vernell came staggering out behind her, fighting to become conscious. His thick black hair stood up on one side of his head, and lay flat on the other.

"Hey, Maggie," he said, a bleary smile jumping across his face before he realized Jolene was right by his side.

I sat, rocking Sheila back and forth in my arms, just as I had when she was a baby.

"Mama!" Sheila protested, struggling to get free.

I looked up at Vernell, ignoring Jolene. "I got a call at the club tonight," I said. "Made me think Sheila was in danger. A man threatened her."

"What?" I had Vernell's complete attention now. "What do you mean? What'd they say? Who was it?" The questions flew out of Vernell. Instantly, he was awake and angry.

"He played a little bit of this old song about little girls and then asked if I knew where Sheila was."

Jolene's shrill laugh cut off Vernell's next question.

"That's it?" she asked from her position at the top of the stairs. "Someone calls up and asks if you know where Sheila is and you freak out? Why, that's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard!"

Vernell looked from her to me, uncertain for a moment. Sheila stiffened in my arms.

"A man said that?" she asked. "You're sure?"

I grabbed her even tighter. "I'm sorry, sweetie," I said, "but yes. That's why I came over here the way I did."

Vernell was down the stairs, an angry scowl on his face. "Ain't nobody gonna hurt my little girl." His thick black eyebrows furrowed together, and his face was a dull reddish brown. "Sonofabitch! Did you call the police?"

I started to answer, but Jolene interrupted. "Now, don't you people think you're getting a little carried away?" Vernell looked up at her, clearly irritated. "I mean, babe," she cooed, "the man only asked if Maggie knew where Sheila was. Why, the way I take it, he was making more of a statement about a mother who stays out till all hours cavorting in a honky-tonk than he was talking about Sheila."

She moved a little closer to the edge of the top step, adjusting her posture to feature her most prominent assets, and smiled seductively. "And look what it's done," she said. "Got you and me out of our warm snuggly bed, and woke little Sheila up. Woke her up out of her own safe bed, I might add." She scowled at me. "All on account of her mother's overreaction." Vernell was starting to look confused.

"I wasn't sleeping," Sheila huffed. "And if my mama wants to come see about me, it don't matter when it is!"

Jolene ignored her. "What would make you think Vernell couldn't take care of his only daughter?" she called down to me. "She's safe here, not like in that ratty old neighborhood where you live, in a house that don't even lock good!" Vernell started to break in, but Jolene rushed ahead. "You gave her up, Maggie! Her own mother! Now look at you! Out till all hours, and now you're acting concerned. Why you-"

"Shut your mouth, Jolene!" Vernell suddenly yelled. It was the old Vernell that I remembered from the good days. Sober and taking up for his family, only in this case, Jolene was the outsider. "I won't have nobody talking to Sheila's mama that way, do you hear me?"

Jolene was shocked, her face going pale with the impact of tumbling down from Vernell's pedestal. The honeymoon was over.

He turned to me and Sheila. "You all right, baby?" he asked her tenderly.

"Yeah, Daddy, I'm fine." But she wasn't fine. Her body trembled against mine and her fingers were icicles.

"Kiss your mama, then, and run on up to bed. It's late."

Sheila pried herself out of my arms, kissed me on the cheek, and then clung to my neck for a long moment before she let go.

"I want to see you tomorrow," I said firmly, trying to make her look at me, but failing.

"I don't know," she muttered. "I have to work."

Vernell stepped in. "Girl, what's wrong with you? This here's your mama. That comes first."

He looked at me. "Don't worry. I'm gonna drive her to school personally tomorrow, and you can pick her up, if it suits." Sheila started to protest, but broke off at the stern look of warning from her father. She turned and walked up the stairs, past Jolene, to her room. I'd waited sixteen years for this kind of support.

"Thanks, Vernell," I said.

He shrugged and scratched at his belly, forgetting, I suppose, that this wasn't exactly appropriate behavior to display in front of an ex-wife, especially when the current wife was hovering like an avenging angel.

"I don't know what the hell's going on," he said with a sigh. "This week has about run me to the end of what all a man can endure, what with Jimmy gone." He looked very sad, and I reached out to touch his arm.

"I'm so sorry, Vernell," I whispered.

"Vernell!" Jolene had had enough.

"I'll keep a close watch," he said, as he walked me to the door. "She's my baby, too, you know."

"I know, Vernell."

He opened the door and watched as I walked over to my car. "Take care of yourself, Maggie."

I looked back. Jolene was drifting down the staircase like a descending spider. Vernell was the one who needed to watch his back, I thought.

I started the car and backed carefully out of the jdriveway, past the flattened mailbox, out into the cul-de-sac. Vernell had closed the front door and by now was facing an angry Dish Girl. I let the VW slide across the street, under the cover of the drooping pin oak, and watched.

The downstairs lights went out. Eventually only one room stayed lit, Sheila's. She was sitting up there, worrying, I just knew.

"Don't worry, baby," I whispered into the darkness. "Mama's right here."

I sat under the big tree branch and watched for I don't know how long. The sound of Maurice Chevalier's voice echoed in my head, replaced by Jolene's accusatory voice: "What kind of a mother are you?"

Maybe the warning had been directed at me. Maybe someone knew about Jimmy being dead in my house, and me being a singer and having a daughter. I'd heard about people getting anonymous phone calls after they'd been in the paper or on TV. Maybe that Jolene was right. But there'd been that phone call at the Curley-Que, too. I pondered on that awhile. Was she right? Was I a bad mother? What kind of right did I have to go off and pursue my own dream?

Sheila's light finally winked out a little after two A.M. I sat there a few more minutes and then drove off toward Jack's. There was no sense in going back to the club. The boys would all be heading home by now. The night was drawing to a close.

I putted slowly across town, lost in a fog of indecision and confusion. I pulled into Jack's parking lot, slid into a space near the loading dock and walked toward the door, all without consciously taking in my surroundings. Only the harmonica music drifting slowly across the lot intruded into my awareness. Jack was sitting on the concrete loading pad, waiting for me, a Rolling Rock in one hand and a C Sharp harmonica in the other.

"You scared the shit out of me," he said. He didn't look scared, though, he looked just as he always did, calm and peaceful. "I've been sitting out here, waiting."

It was only when I stepped up onto the dock and sank down beside him that I noticed his hands were shaking ever so slightly.

"Jack, I'm sorry," I said. He turned to me, his eyes filled with concern and some other emotion that I couldn't read. "I had to go see about Sheila. I couldn't have stayed and explained."

"Is she all right?" he asked.

"I don't know. I think maybe, for now, she is." Jack sighed and took a swig of his been "Vernell's fine little wife thinks the man on the phone was trying to point out what a bad mother I am."

"Well, that's just horseshit!" Jack said. He reached over and put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to him. It was cold outside and Jack's body was warm.

"I don't know what to think. All I know is, it scared me to death."

"Scared me, too" he said. "You've gotta start taking better care of yourself. Watch what you're doing. Fix the damn lock over at your place and let the police help you. This is getting serious, Maggie. I tried to explain it to Sparks, but I gotta tell you, Maggie, he was a little pissed."

That was all I needed. "I'll call him tomorrow."

"Well," Jack sighed, "better let him cool down a bit first. Just show up on time tomorrow night and talk to him."

"What did he say, Jack?" I asked, suddenly more afraid.

"He said he'd had enough of you running in and out. Said he had a band to think of and that if you couldn't be reliable, he'd have to let you go."

"Great! Just fine!" I said.

"Try not to let him get to you," he said. "His bark is worse than his bite." He squeezed me tight, then stood up. "Let's go inside. It's freezing out here."

It wasn't until we got inside and into the light that I realized something else. Jack had been crying. He tried to hide it with a thin, watery smile, but his eyes were swollen and red. In my lifetime I will admit that I had not seen many men cry. It was unusual and a little frightening. But then, Jack was unusual, a man who was comfortable with his feelings. Still, I couldn't help walking up to him and touching him tentatively.

"Jack? What's wrong? Have you been crying?"

He turned and smiled softly, but his lips trembled. "I'm fine," he said.

"Did I scare you that badly?" I asked.

He laughed a little and shook his head. "No, don't worry about it. It doesn't have a thing to do with you. Except"-his voice faltered for a moment-"except just don't let anything happen to you, all right? I couldn't stand to lose anyone else right now."

"Is it Evelyn?" I asked.

"Yeah, but let's not talk about it right now, all right, Maggie?" He reached out and stroked my hair gently, as if I were much younger than him, and not the other way around. "Let's just go upstairs and go to sleep." He stressed the word sleep, as if I should understand that he, too, realized the moment we had shared was past.

I let him take my hand, and we walked up the stairs to his bedroom. This time, when I slipped in between the sheets, it no longer occurred to me to worry about his nakedness. Instead I rolled over to face his back, reached out my hand, and let it rest on his shoulder. Later, when he thought I was asleep, I heard a quiet sob escape his lips and felt him tremble.

I lay there wondering what to do, my hand still resting on his shoulder. In all of my life, I had never seen a man hurt this way, not over a woman, not over anything that I could recall. Even when my brother Larry's wife left him, he hadn't cried. I'd found him out behind the old barn, chopping wood in the middle of January, working so hard that even bare-chested in thirty-degree weather, he was sweating. But I never saw him cry.

Eventually, I heard the soft sound of even breathing and realized that Jack had drifted off to sleep. I lay awake for a long time, thinking about the men in my life, and wondering if one of them had been the voice on the phone, if maybe someone I knew had killed Jimmy and now wanted to see me dead. But why? What had I done to make someone so angry they'd threaten my daughter and try and frame me for murder?