Page 42 of Heart of Dixie
From where I stood, however, the man lying inside appeared hale and hearty, and my hands instinctively moved to the lip of the smooth, cool wood when they started to shake. He was familiar and larger than life—which apparently, he was . . . untilhe died. But I didn’t remember this man at all. Mrs. Appleby had done a good job with the makeup. He appeared as though he’d only drifted off for a nap.
There were so many flowers that the air was thick with the sweet scent of their blossoms. The shuffle of people moving about the church behind me filtered through my consciousness as I stood at the front of the church peering into the casket.
It had been many years since I’d seen Cooter last and if I didn’t look too intently I could imagine him as the kind of guy who could cause a little girl to have a daddy crush. The kind of daddy who would laugh and tease and teach a young daughter to ride a bike and a teenager to drive his old truck. But I knew better, didn’t I?
I knew what kind of daddy he really was.
“Where the hell have you been, missy?” Cooter’s roar echoed through the neighborhood.
“Daddy, you’re still home!” My heart dropped, then thundered when he threw open the front door and stepped onto the landing. I stopped dead in my tracks. Deke had been walking beside me from his truck toward my darkened house and stopped at my side.
Looking back, that was probably what set Cooter off, seeing as how the shotgun came out once he noticed Deke’s jacket slung over my shoulders in the cool night air. In the light of the open doorway the squalor that was my home when Cooter was alone for more than twenty minutes was plainly visible. Dirty dishes were piled on the table beside a stack of discarded newspapers. A shirt was strewn over the back of the sofa that we used to divide the cramped space into two rooms. Every reason I never invited friends to visit was now on display for the neighbors’ viewing pleasure. A glance at Deke confirmed he was still distracted by the shotgun being waved in his face.
“You want to see tomorrow, asshole? You get the hell away from my girl and off of my driveway.”
Deke pushed me behind him and raised his palms, then spoke with his voice calm “Sir, if you don’t mind putting—”
“Boy, this gun’s not just for rabbits. Now, go!”
My daddy and his legendary temper had been a source of embarrassment my entire life, but I doubted I’d ever get over the humiliation of this.Pointing a gun at my friend? I peeked out from behind Deke’s shoulder. “Daddy, put that away. Please! I was at work!” I’d only been at Ruby’s diner like always, serving the late-night customers until I was certain he was passed out for the night. I usually made the walk alone, a mile and a half home because I didn’t know how to drive. “All Deke did was give me a ride; it’s dark outside.”
“You stupid, missy? Bad things happen to girls at night. People get hurt at night!”
The air beside me stirred with awhoosh. Ruby in a cloud of Obsession and elaborate black organdy snapped me back to reality. The aging thespian may have left her acting career behind when she moved from New York City, but she brought the wardrobe with her. The plumed hat she wore was certainly vintage.
With a tilt of her head that dipped a peacock feather into my face, Ruby gazed into the casket at dead Cooter. “Look at him lying there so strong and peaceful-looking. Lookscanbe deceiving, can’t they?”
I just stared—at Ruby, who watched Cooter as if she was waiting for him to stand up and invite her to dance. But Cooter wasn’t going anywhere.
Elsie walked up and stood between us. “Just look at ’im. Tall enough to reach the top shelf or change the light bulb in the kitchen ceiling. Strong enough to get the lid off that big jar of dill pickles.”
I angled my head and raised an eyebrow. Her voice could almost be mistaken for wistful. I took a deep breath to keep from imagining her naked. With handcuffs. It was definitely time to head west again.
But hadn’t I been thinking along just those same lines?
Daddy crush.Broad, muscular shoulders to cry on when a cute boy called me hateful, hurtful names, all while he patted my back with those big, strong hands. Features that opened up and brightened when he tugged at my pigtail and teased.
Jesus, I was truly losing it today. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw my father smile. And if he’d teased me even once since the day my mama died, well, that memory was lost, too. Nope, this was mean old Cooter packed away in the pretty box Deke and I picked out. Just to make sure, I reached in and poked his shoulder. Yep, he didn’t budge.
“Aw, now sweetie.” Ruby’s eyes were tearing up.Jesus!“Your daddy would want you to go on with your life. He wouldn’t want you to mourn him overmuch.”
That was it. The woman was delusional—or rehearsing for Broadway—but enough was enough. “Ruby.” I gave my daddy another poke. “I don’t think he needs to worry about me—or anyone—wasting time mourning over him.”Poke. No movement. So far, so good. “And I have every intention of moving on with my life.”Poke. Poke. Still as a stone. “I’ve got another six hours in this town and then I’m heading back to my life.”
I gave him one last prod, just to be certain.
“Dixie, stop that!” Elsie swatted at my hand. “Whydoyou keep stabbing at him that way?” She peered into the casket. “Does he have something on his suit jacket?”
“Um, no.” I peeked in to confirm there wasn’t. Nope, clean and pressed. I pressed my lips together to keep from giggling. “Not a speck on his clothes.” I gave both women a smile fullof innocence before responding, “I just want to make sure he’s really dead.”
Elsie gaped. Ruby broke out in laughter. “Oh, he’d get a hoot out of that, wouldn’t he Elsie? Oh, lordy, woman, pick up your chin.” Ruby lifted it for her with a pair of thick fingers. “George had a quick sense of humor. He would have seen the fun; more likely, been the instigator.” She wrapped her arm around my shoulder as the organ music changed and the congregation claimed their seats. “Girl, you remind me more and more of your daddy as the days go by.”
Elsie took my hands and gave them a sympathetic squeeze that seemed to threaten her composure. “George was so compassionate and caring. So generous. He was always the first to offer his assistance to a body in need.” She let go of me to dig in her purse for her hanky. “He’s at peace knowing you came home to give him the send-off he deserves.” She paused to dab at her eyes. The tears rolling down her cheeks were now turning her dusting powder to a cakey mess.
I closed my eyes to keep from rolling them.
The pastor took his place at the pulpit and the two older women found seats nearby, leaving me to slide into the end of the front pew, far too close to Cooter’s open casket. Like a toddler who’s distracted by those seated around her in church, I craned my neck to get a peek at the few poor souls with nothing better to do on a Tuesday morning than attend a service for a foul-tempered geezer.
Except he wasn’t a geezer; many men Cooter’s age were still in their prime. And according to the citizens of Kissing Creek, he was an active member of the community. Well liked. Respected. I faced the front again as a parade of strangers all waited patiently for a turn to extol the virtues of a man I never knew. My limbs were leaden and my heart ached as though it were being twisted in someone’s fist. My eyes burned. And my lungs . . .why was it so hard to catch my breath? I craned my neck again to gauge the distance to the doors. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t stay and let everyone believe I was the grieving daughter. Who the hellwasthe man they were about to drop into a hole in the ground?
