The Last Death of Jack Harbin by Terry Shames Read Free Book Online

angry. “Now listen, Jack, there’s no call for that. I came out of respect for your dad, and . . .”
    â€œGet him out!” Jack snarls.
    At Woody’s side, Laurel is pale, clutching her purse as if she’s protecting her chest. Taylor steps forward. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her. She looks good, but different, tense around the eyes and mouth. She’s wearing a gray dress and high heels and her hair is short and crisp. “Jack, cut it out!” Her voice hasn’t changed. It’s husky, tomboyish. Right now it’s raw with emotion.
    â€œTaylor, you stay out of this. It’s none of your business.”
    Taylor steps close in and kneels next to Jack’s wheelchair. “Yes, it is my business. You can’t keep on blaming Woody. It’s as much my fault as it is his.”
    â€œFuck you, Taylor!”
    â€œTamp it down, son,” Walter says, his hand on Jack’s shoulder. “We got kids here, and church folks.”
    â€œJust get him out of here.” Jack’s arms shoot out as if he’s flinging the whole idea of Woody away from him. He comes close to clipping Woody, who rears his head back just in time. “And her, too.”
    Taylor glances up at Dunn and a look of some kind of understanding passes between them. Dunn reaches out and offers his hand to help her to her feet. There’s something oddly familiar in the gesture, as if they both know Jack so well that they don’t have to be introduced to one another.
    Woody steps forward. Sweat is beaded on his brow. “Jack, you’ve got to let me help you!”
    Taylor stands up and grabs Woody’s arm. “Not now, Woody.”
    â€œLet go of me! I need to talk to Jack.” Woody has drunk his share of alcohol.
    Laurel pulls at Woody’s other arm. “Come on now, honey.”
    â€œI said no! I need to talk to Jack.”
    â€œThis isn’t a good time!” Taylor’s voice is like a whip crack, and Woody deflates. The two women propel Woody past the embarrassed onlookers and out the front door.
    â€œOkay, folks,” Jacks yells. “Show’s over. Drink up! In honor of my daddy.” He takes a long drink of whatever brown whiskey is in his glass.
    â€œHear, hear! Drink up,” his army buddies chorus, and follow his lead. The wives are standing near the table watching. All of them look like they’d give anything to see the last of Jack Harbin.
    I look around for Marybeth Harbin, thinking I should say something to her on my way out, but I don’t see her anywhere. I’m almost to my car when I look down the street and see Taylor talking to Curtis, face twisted with fury, her fists clenched and her back rigid.
    My heart constricts at the sight. Years ago Taylor was a happy, lovely girl. What has put her in such a state? What has she got to talk to Curtis about?
    And then I remember that Curtis’s wife is Taylor’s younger sister. I never knew the sister. Apparently she was a painfully shy girl, the opposite of Taylor. Jeanne told me it was shameful how relieved their mother was to get the younger girl married off—they thought she’d be an old maid. So that is the wife Curtis told me needed to stay home and take care of “his” kids.
    Suddenly Taylor draws back her hand and slaps Curtis. He grabs her hand and flings it away so violently that Taylor stumbles and almost loses her balance. I take a step in their direction, but Taylor turns her back on Curtis and strides away, leaving him glaring at her, fists clenched at his sides.

Years ago, Taylor would stop by and say hello when she was in town. I watched her evolve from a giggling, larking teenager to a solemn young wife married to Woody and then divorced. When she went off to college, Jeanne and I saw less of her. Somewhere along the line she lost her teasing, friendly ways and became more serious, even strict. Jeanne worried about her and thought