“That other one, that Spangler woman, she was eaten up with jealousy, and jealousy is a real strong emotion. I never felt it myself ’cause I never had reason to be jealous of any man, if you know what I mean. I had more than my share, so I didn’t need to want what somebody else had.”
He looked at Bailey as though he expected her to tell him that he was still a fine-looking man.
“Did you know a boy who had a harelip?” she blurted out.
“A couple. You wanta see a picture of that T. L. Spangler?”
No, not really, Bailey wanted to say, but she just gave him a tiny smile.
Rodney put down his shotgun—at last—and went to an old cabinet in one corner. The upper half of the cabinet had doors that were about to come off their hinges, but the bottom doors had a big padlock on them. Rodney reached into his pocket and
pulled out a chain with a key ring and a dozen keys on the end of it. He inserted a key into the lock, then turned back to Bailey. “Can’t be too careful around here with so damned many kids around.”
Again, all Bailey could do was smile in reply.
She could see that the inside of the cupboard was clean and in perfect repair. Lying on a shelf were two leather-bound photo albums, and Bailey knew enough about quality goods to know that these albums had cost a lot. A wave of anger shot through her. His children lived in filth, but he had beer and leather-bound photo albums.
As though he were handling a priceless object, Rodney withdrew the top album, then carefully opened it about two-thirds the way through. “Missed it by one page,” he said as he walked toward her. “Usually, I find whatever I want on the first try, but you’re makin’ my heart thump so hard I can’t think straight.”
Why oh why hadn’t she brought Matt with her? she wondered. Or Violet? Or a .45?
She took the album he held out so reverently and looked at the photo he was pointing at with his dirty fingernail.
“There she is. That’s your T. L. Spangler when she was in school with us. Ain’t she about the ugliest thing you ever saw?”
Bailey looked at the girl in the photo and had to admit that she was what was sometimes called “unfortunate.” She had frizzy hair that stood out around her head, thick glasses, crooked, protruding teeth, no discernible chin, and a bad case of acne.
“Now look at this one,” Rodney said as he flipped the page.
There was a cover torn from a Time magazine. On it were the faces of three women and the headline “Tomorrow’s Future.” Bailey had to read the fine print to see that the woman in the foreground was Senator Spangler. Her hair had been straightened, she didn’t wear glasses, her teeth had been fixed, she now had a chin, and her skin had cleared up.
“Good surgeon,” Bailey said in admiration. “Wonder who did the work?”
Rodney was looking at her as though she were stupid and missing the point entirely. He flipped the page back. “That girl was mad about Kyle. She wanted him. She did everything on earth to get his attention when we were in school, and when he wouldn’t touch her, she swore she’d get him back. That’s why she wrote that book.”
“I see,” Bailey said. She handed the album back to him. “So, uh, Mr. Yates, you don’t remember a boy with a harelip?”
Rodney closed the album and carefully put it back in its place inside the cabinet. “How old was he in 1968?”
“Nine,” Bailey said.
“No, I don’t remember any kid like that. Sure he was from Calburn?”
“Yes. I—” She had been about to say that she had a photo of him in front of the mulberry tree at her farm, but something was keeping her from telling him that, and certainly from saying that she had a copy of the photo in her car. “You know, I think I better be going.”
“You can’t go yet,” Rodney said, advancing on her. “I got three albums full of pictures. You and me, we could sit down with them together and look at every picture.”
Bailey got up. “Maybe another time,” she said as she headed for the door. Maybe when I have an armed escort with me.
Rodney put himself between her and the door. “You can’t go yet. It’s too soon,” he said in what Bailey was sure he meant to be a sexy voice.
She put her hand on the door latch and pulled. In the next two seconds, she was out the door, down the steps, and heading toward her car. Just let me get out of here, please, she prayed.
“Wait a minute!” Rodney called from the porch.
Bailey stopped walking, but she didn’t turn around.
“I forgot. Lucas McCallum had a harelip, but he was fourteen that summer. Big kid, hulking.”