“Don’t worry about the kitchen, I cleaned everything up as fast as I could after I finished puking and you were still losing your shit in the laundry room. Everything’s in a garbage bag in the coat closet in the hallway until we’re alone and can burn it or something,” I update her quickly out of the corner of my mouth as Billy Ray comes up to the porch steps.
“Hey, Emma Jo, by any chance do you have one of those do-hickey’s that you use on people when they’re sick and have a fever?” he asks.
“Um, do you mean a thermometer?”
Billy Ray snaps his fingers, smiles widely, and points at her. “THAT’S what it’s called! Yeah, I need one of them thermometer things. I just Googled what I’m supposed to do in a situation like this and I guess I need to check the temperature of the body to see when he died. I tried using my thermometer thing, but it’s telling me Jed died at 87.5 degrees. I think mine’s broken.”
It takes a lot of effort for me not to giggle like a little girl and give Emma Jo a fist-bump when she looks down at me with her own barely concealed smile of joy as she pushes up from the swing to get Billy Jo a “thermometer thing.” I’m pretty sure we’re both a little more confident knowing that Billy Jo couldn’t find his own ass, yet alone the cause for someone’s death.
Emma Jo disappears into the house and Billy Ray climbs up the steps to follow her. The front door barely clicks shut behind them when a 1986 silver Buick Regal pulls into Emma Jo’s driveway. I let out a low groan of annoyance seeing the car my parents have owned since the year I was born, and another one to go with it when my mother gets out of the driver’s seat, slams the door closed, and stomps across the yard.
“Payton Marie Lambert, what have you done?” she fires at me, clumping up the steps in a pair of yellow slippers that match the yellow robe she threw on over her yellow and white plaid nightgown. The only thing clashing with her ensemble right now are the five giant blue curlers on top of her head.
She stops right in front of me on the swing with her hands on her hips to glare down at me.
“My phone has been ringing off the hook all morning. First, Starla called to let me know you assaulted Bo Jangles, then she called to tell me you killed a deer in Emma Jo’s backyard, then Teresa Jefferson called to say you tried to corrupt poor Caden again. I had to take my phone off the hook after Roy Pickerson called and said he saw a car from the sheriff’s department here and wanted to know if you had robbed another bar. Honestly, Payton. Forty hours of labor with you, and you’re still making me suffer,” she complains in one breath.
“How come every time you think I’m in trouble, the number of hours you were in labor with me gets higher?” I ask, pushing up from the swing when she opens her arms and taps her slipper-covered foot.
“Don’t sass me, young lady,” she scolds when I lean into her and she wraps her arms around me. “You might be thirty-years-old and a big, fancy business owner, but I can still tan your hide.”
She tightens her hold on me and starts swaying us from side to side, letting me know that even if she’s irritated, she still loves me more than anything. I wrap my arms around her waist and take a deep breath of the Jovan Musk perfume she’s worn since before I was born, the smell reminding me of being a little girl, safe and loved and happy. My eyes get blurry with tears when I rest my head on her shoulder. Even though my parents just flew out to Chicago two months ago for my dad’s birthday, after everything that’s happened in the last few days, it seems like much longer, and I didn’t realize how much I needed a hug from my mom until right this minute. Standing in her arms while she rocks me gently and runs one of her hands down the back of my head, I forget about all the reasons why I never wanted to come home to visit and wish I’d done it much sooner.
“RUBY! DID YOU ASK HER IF IT WAS TRUE THAT SHE CAME BACK HERE BECAUSE SHE REALIZED SHE’D ALWAYS BEEN IN LOVE WITH SHERIFF HUDSON?” Starla shouts from her front yard.
“YEAH! I RAN INTO MAUREEN AT THE HUNGRY BEAR THIS MORNING AND SHE SAID SHE SAW THE TWO OF THEM STANDING REAL CLOSE TO EACH OTHER RIGHT THERE ON THE PORCH WHEN SHE DROVE BY EARLIER!” Another front-yard gawker shouts over to my mother.
“I hope he doesn’t plan on marrying her. You should have heard the way she spoke to Bo Jangles. Can you imagine how she’d treat a husband?” Starla says to no one in particular. She’s no longer yelling for the entire town to hear, but due to the close proximity of the houses, her voice carries just fine, unfortunately.