Gideon - 05 - Blind Judgement by Grif Stockley Read Free Book Online Page B

land.
    Dwight’s brother wants to buy me out and carry the mortgage, but I know he can’t pay me.”
    I am taken aback by how much she is revealing to me, but I shouldn’t be. For some reason we trusted each other from the moment we met.
    That first night on her front steps she had confided how upset she had been when she had learned her father was moving to Arkansas, of all places. Obviously, I had talked about the marvels of Catholicism. I stand up to take the cup she hands me. Her hand is shaking. Family businesses.
    They’re messes, whatever the nationality.
    “What is Cecil like?” I ask, retrieving somehow the name of Dwight’s brother. Odd what is in the memory bank. Cecil was two years younger, and since those kids worked all the time on the farm, I just barely knew him.
     
    “You’re not obligated to sell to him.”
    Angela makes a face before sipping at her own coffee. I should know better, her expression says.
    “Of course I am,” she says, her voice slightly bitter as she sits down at the table across from me.
    “He’s my husband’s brother. What is Cecil like? He’s like every younger brother. If Dwight had planted beans instead of cotton, if they had bought more land instead of renting … the last two years as things were going from bad to worse it got pretty tense between them.
    His wife, Nancy—you may not remember her since she was a lot younger—has been good to me and the boys, but it’s been a strain on everybody.”
    I require some milk for my coffee, and, not wanting to make her get up again, I walk over to her ancient GE and open it. Damn. The top shelves are as bare as my own. Three cartons of Dannon fat-free plain yogurt, a quart of Carnation Coffee-mate Lite creamer, a quart of Minute Maid orange juice and four cans of diet Coke. No wonder she’s thin: she hasn’t eaten solid food since high school. I flavor my brew, and wonder why I like instant better than the real thing. A character defect, undoubtedly. I like cheap bourbon better than the expensive stuff. It tastes better with Coke. Angela looks up at me and forces another smile.
    “How’s Sarah?”
     
    I nod, glad to talk about a more pleasant subject.
    My daughter has been the only thing between me and the nut house most of the time for the last seven years. I sit down again, making the oak chair squeak under my weight. Twenty years ago she must have had nice furniture in this room. Today, it could stand some glue.
    “She’s great. First semester she became a raging feminist and quit junior varsity cheer leading because the costumes exploited women. I think she’s calming down a little, but next year it’ll be something else. She’s very passionate, like her mother was.”
    Angela pushes back a lock of hair from her forehead.
    “Do you still miss Rosa?”
    I take off my jacket and hang it on the back of the chair to give myself time to think.
    “Not consciously so much anymore,” I say candidly.
    “But she was so alive that there’s a big hole I’ve had to realize can’t be filled. You really learn the hard way that people are unique and can’t be replaced.
    She wasn’t perfect, but she was good in a way I’m not. She cared about others past the point of just wanting to be liked herself. Do you know what I mean? You would have been friends.”
    Angela studies me carefully and strokes the left side of her face.
     
    “Do you have a picture of Sarah?”
    From my right hip pocket I tug out my wallet, which as usual is too full of laundry slips, business cards, and ancient notes to myself to make a smooth exit.
    “This is Sarah last year,” I say handing her the wallet.
    “She looks just like her mother when I met her in Colombia.”
    Angela examines the photograph and winks at me.
    “God, Gideon, no wonder you married Rosa.
    She’s just stunning! I bet she has all the boys going crazy.”
    She doesn’t know the half of it.
    “Let’s see your boys,” I say, taking my wallet back. To be so serious,