Somewhere Between Luck and Trust

Then, while Cristy was in the county jail waiting for trial, sixty-four-year-old Betsy had suffered her second heart attack. Cristy hadn’t been allowed to attend the funeral.

“How long did you live in the house?” Samantha asked.

“Almost five years. Betsy couldn’t afford to pay much, so the house was part of my salary. I fixed it up myself.”

“You sure did. It’s adorable.”

“Betsy didn’t care if I experimented. I tried anything I thought of. I rescued furniture from the trash and bought things at yard sales.”

“Some of us could do that and end up with a mess. I kept expecting to see an HGTV film crew come up the walkway.”

Cristy told herself to be careful. Compliments were wonderful, but that was what had brought her to this place in her life. “I won’t mind being out here,” she said. “I know how lucky I am you offered this chance.”

“We’re about an hour from Mars Hill.”

Cristy was wearing a light jacket Samantha had bought her, but the air was colder here than it was in Raleigh, crisper and more penetrating. She shivered.

“Do you want to talk about your son?” Samantha asked. “Or shall we stay away from the subject?”

Cristy found it odd to be asked her preference, but it was refreshing, too. “I guess you know Michael’s with my second cousin, Berdine Bates, and her husband, Wayne. I thought that was better than sending him to live with strangers.”

“I know you must have felt they would give him a better home than your parents could.”

“My parents didn’t want anything to do with him, or me. Not even before...” She turned her hands toward the sky. “Anyway, I wouldn’t have let them take him. They aren’t good with children. And they’re living in Ohio now. When I was arrested, the deacons told my father to start looking for a church somewhere else.”

She didn’t add that this was probably the sin her parents found most unforgivable. Not that she had shoplifted or had a child out of wedlock, but that her behavior had caused her father to be demoted to a smaller church in another state at the end of his career.

“I’m glad you found someone you trusted.”

“Berdine’s a full-time mom. They have two girls, almost teenagers now. I guess Berdine and Wayne always wanted a boy, too, but Berdine couldn’t have any more children. They’ve always been good to me. When I was growing up I spent as much time with that part of the family as I could, but not nearly enough.”

“Did Berdine contact you when she heard you’d gone to prison?”

“She sent me funny cards to cheer me up.” She didn’t add that Berdine was one of the few who had sent her anything. “She came to visit, too. Twice. She told me she would do anything she could to help me. I took her up on it.”

“So she was willing.”

Cristy had trouble with the next sentence. “When I asked, she said it would be an honor to keep my son until I was able to take care of him myself.”

“She sounds like a winner. And you like her husband?”

What wasn’t there to like about Wayne? He was a big teddy bear of a man, funny and irreverent. Cristy’s mother thought he was unforgivably rough around the edges, and her father disliked him because he didn’t take the world seriously. Those had been recommendations enough for Cristy.

She listed the important points. “Wayne hunts and fishes and works on the house when he isn’t on jobs. He has a small construction company, and he’s teaching his daughters everything he knows about building houses. He’s a man’s man who makes room for women, too.”

“I like the way you put that.”

“He’s a great dad. If Michael needs something, he won’t back down for anybody.”

“They won’t mind you visiting?”

She debated, then decided to tell the truth. “They suggested I come on Sunday, after I had a chance to rest up. In fact, they asked me to move in with them.”

“I didn’t know that. You don’t want to?”

“I’m sorry, I guess I should, but I’m not ready.”

Samantha nodded, as if she understood, but Cristy wanted to be sure she really did.

“Not ready to be Michael’s mother,” she finished.

Samantha didn’t question that, either, although it must have sounded strange. “You’ve been through a lot. You’ll be close enough here to visit him whenever you want to. This’ll be a good place for you.”

“You haven’t asked about the baby’s father.”

“You’re right.”

“Don’t you want to know?”

“Not unless you want to tell me.”

Cristy stopped walking. “My baby’s father is a man named Jackson Ford, and he’s the one who put me in prison.”

Samantha didn’t respond, so Cristy continued.

“I don’t want Jackson to see or hold or speak to Michael. Not ever. Because a man who could do what he did to me is a man who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt a child.”

“Does he know where Michael is?”

“I’m sure he does. Jackson can get anything he wants.”

Samantha didn’t try to soothe her fears. Cristy was surprised that she seemed to believe her. Instead Samantha asked, “You’re not worried about the baby’s safety?”

“Wayne will be sure Michael stays safe. He’s not a violent man, but he does believe in country justice.”

“Country justice?”

“You live outside town, the law’s not there to take care of you or make sure things are fair or right. Out in the country people take care of themselves, and they don’t put up with a lot.”

“Then Wayne’s watching for trouble?”

Cristy told Samantha one of the few things in life she was still convinced was true. “Wayne Bates will never let trouble sneak up on him. And because he won’t, he and Berdine have my son.”

* * *

Georgia knew that her daughter disapproved of fast food and didn’t feed it to Edna, at least not very often. Samantha knew her mother would respect that decision, so on the rare occasions when she didn’t, neither of them made a big deal out of it.

Which was why a happy Edna was just finishing a chocolate shake and a small order of fries as they finished the climb up Doggett Mountain to the Goddess House.