Gathering of Blackbirds Read online

Gathering of Blackbirds

  Copyright © 2012 by M.M. Gavillet

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of the book can be reproduced without permission of the author. This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased, places, incidences and names are purely a coincidence and are the product of the author’s imagination.

  ISBN 9781301144396

  Acknowledgments

  I never thought it would take a village to write a book! I first have to thank my husband who puts up with my writing obsession daily, to Kyle for making me laugh and to Ashley for being Ashley. I would also like to thank Elizabeth and Anna for reading anything I threw at them, you are my favorite critics! A big thanks to Gaby, the best librarian ever and to Karen, who is a true wizard of words and helped me with her magic along the way! Another big thanks to Katie. And to my mom who actually said she would buy a copy of this book. Also to my dad who hopefully took a break from dusting the stars to look down to see I finally wrote a book.

  Chapter One

  The hot summer sun was relentless and made the freckles on my shoulders appear by the dozens. It was only the end of June, and already the town of St. Francis felt like it was in the dead of August. This is when I wished our little trailer had air conditioning.

  Dressed in my frayed cut-off shorts and a black tank top, the only clean one I had, amplified the intense heat. I am glad though, because I am going to work at the Wooden Nickel Bar and Grill at the edge of St. Francis where the air conditioning makes it cool as December.

  The dusty road was so parched that I could almost hear it cry out for rain. A truck flew by with kids from my class going to the pool in nearby Thornbrooke. Dressed in vivid bikinis and doting plush towels waiting to soak up the over chlorinated water, I hesitated and watch them pause at a stop sign. They didn’t see me, as if my black tank top blended in with the scorched ground.

  They looked both ways, turned right and out of town for a carefree afternoon, while I turned left where at least I could escape the heat.

  The Wooden Nickel sat on a half gravel half dust filled parking lot with one large oak tree to the west side of the building. Even in its monstrous size, it looked slightly withered by the dry conditions. An array of green, brown and clear colored broken pieces of glass nearly outnumber the gravel as I opened the door to winter.

  Inside was dark and smoky with the left over smell of old grease from lunch. I can only wonder if anyone got food poisoning today.

  “Hey Em,” Jimmy called from behind the bar. “Came in early?” He smiled at me with his chipped tooth grin.

  “I just couldn’t wait to get here and enjoy the ambiance.” I smiled back as he cleaned the heavily varnished wood bar.

  “I told you I had an air conditioner for you. I can even help you put it in,” he said with raised eyebrows.

  “That would be nice if the window wouldn’t fall out from under its weight.” I continued to smile as I went behind the bar to put my apron on. Jimmy only shook his head. “But, thanks anyway.”

  I marked my time card as two o‘clock, even though it was only one. I put on my tan colored apron and tied back my long hair that I believed to have every shade of blonde in it. It looked like I always had highlights in it, and I guess if one thing ever went right for me, was my hair. At least I didn’t have to pay for highlights I couldn’t afford anyhow.

  No one was in the bar, so I cleaned the tables and chairs, fill salt and pepper shakers and most important fill the ketchup bottles. There is nothing more aggravating than expecting to cover your French Fries in ketchup only to find an empty bottle, and you are left to ask the extremely busy waitress for another one. I stop when I have the dining room the way I want it and ready for Wednesday night fried chicken patrons.

  It is about four thirty, and the first ones to enter are the early birds, mostly elderly people that religiously come to chicken night at the Wooden Nickel like they were going to church. I visit with most of them and enjoy their company, and they tip me very well. The next wave to hit us are the people getting off of work, some with families of screaming kids, they make the worst mess and then you have the local drunks after that.

  Most of them are already liquored up before they even step foot in. Jimmy lets me serve them alcohol, even though I am only fifteen. Most people can’t wait to leave work and go home, I am the opposite. I wish I could sometimes live at the Wooden Nickel and have my friendly customers as my family.

  “…Hot one today, and no rain in sight. St. F hasn’t seen this dry of weather in long time.” Most locals call St. Francis St. F for short.

  “What are you the weather man now? - Got a fancy computer and that makes you what… the smartest damn person in St. F.”

  Jimmy stepped from behind the bar with his steady eyes. He isn’t very tall, but strong for his size. He kind of reminds me of a garden gnome on steroids.

  “I am not going to have a repeat of last week.” Jimmy’s voice is stern, his dark eyes dart between the two men. “Jake, John do you understand?”

  “Calm down, there is gonna be no repeatn’.” John stood beside his twin brother Jake. I believed they even fought with one another before they were ever born.

  I have witnessed the two brothers fight like they were going to kill each other, then turn around and defend one another. Last week, I thought we almost had to call the cops to break up a fight in the parking lot. A stranger had come in, made a few comments that only ignited their tempers, and out to the parking they went. Jimmy almost banned them from coming in, but his threat was only as long as my little finger.

  “Hey, Em go play a song.” Jake flips me a dollar.

  I went to the jukebox, and played something by Garth Brooks. I hate Garth Brooks, and country music altogether, but I knew Jake liked him. Laughter, smoke, a few drunks mistaking twenties for ten dollar bills and the music of my least favorite musician, filled the Wooden Nickel until midnight, when Jimmy kindly encouraged his patrons to go home.

  The bar was still, with only me and Jimmy to clean up. It was one in the morning before we finish.

  “Let me give you a ride home Em,” Jimmy said as he locked the door behind him.

  I looked up at the full moon and listened to the rustle of the wind through the corn field.

  “No thanks, I really just want to walk home. I like the peace and quiet.” I tried to reassure him.

  Jimmy only gave me a concerned look. “You know,” he paused running his hand through his greying hair. “You can stay at my house with Alice and I…you know if you ever felt like you really need to go somewhere.”

  I looked at him. I couldn’t hide the situation I had with my dad. Jimmy was sincere even though his words seemed rehearsed, I knew he meant it.

  “Maybe,” I replied as a car rumbled down the road. “Besides, David is here.”

  I wasn’t sure if I was happy or not that my sort- of- boyfriend was here. The look on Jimmy’s face deepened with concern. I waved goodbye and got into David’s prized 1987 Mustang.

  “I didn’t think you were coming,” I said as David drove down the road past the trailer court where my home was and into the country.

  David looked at me with his nearly black eyes.

  “Why? Do you have something better to do?” His voice bordered on interrogating.

  I looked at him. “No.”

  David carefully maneuvered his car over and around potholes on the dirt road that ended right before Horton Creek. Trees lined the creek that bordered many miles of wheat, corn and bean fields as well as pasture grounds. An abandoned barn sat on a sliver of ground between the creek and a growing corn field that will soon h
ide it from the road.

  I got out of David’s car, careful to not slam the door shut. There was one other vehicle there, a truck that belonged to Gabe.

  David grabbed hold of my arm tightly, and pulled me close to him. His eyes were dark and felt like beams that pierced through me. His dark hair of soft waves brushed against his sharp cheekbones that made hollow shadows in the dim light from the moon. The cool air would normally be saturated with dew, but with the harsh heat wave, it never did.

  “Well, where is it?” David asked as if I was hiding something.

  “Where’s what?” My mind frantically raced with worry as to what I had forgotten.

  “The booze…” He leaned closer to me. “You were supposed to take some tonight when you got off.” His ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Look, I can’t steal from…” Suddenly, David’s hand hit my cheek making my ears ring. I stood dumbfounded and held my cheek, but didn’t cry.

  “Stupid bitch,” he said in a low voice. “I told you to get some for tonight. You work at a bar.” David’s voice implied I didn’t put working in a bar and stealing liquor together.

  I stood there like I always did, and took whatever David dished out to me. Why did I though? That question echoed in my head as it had before, this time I listened to it. Why did I put up with David? He didn’t care for me. I just wanted someone to be with, and he was there, to everyone else I am invisible.

  I looked at him. He paced around trying to get a grip on his usual volcanic emotions.

  “Look, sorry.” His words were forced.

  I stood with crossed arms. “No, you’re not.”

  He glared at me, deep shadows filled around his eyes and through his cheeks. I shivered slightly in the heat at his almost alien-like appearance.

  “What is the matter with you?” He spat.

  I looked at him. Anger flowed from him strong enough that it could had incinerated the dry air. I didn’t even like David anymore. Who would? He was upset with me all the time about everything I did wrong or how I embarrassed him in front of everyone. I had enough.

  “I don’t want to be with you anymore, if you’re going to treat me this way.” I simply stated with a trembled voice. I held my breath in disbelief as to what came out of my mouth.

  David grabbed my arm and jerked me around so my back was against a tree and he was only breaths away from my face. My heart began to race.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” David’s voice was low and surprisingly calm.

  I didn’t reply, only stood there. I wanted to sever our relationship that felt more like a loaded gun that had to go off to end it, and I hoped I wasn’t at the barrels end.

  “Hey…what’s going on out here?” Gabe asked as he stood with a small flashlight in his hand. His voice was like a life boat in a sea of fire.

  Gabe was tall with broad shoulders tanned from working in the sun. His hair was nearly bleached out and looked like spun gold. There was always a gentleness to him that every time I saw him, made me smile.

  “Nothing,” David said as he turned from me and went into the barn.

  Gabe watched David go into the barn and rummaged the cooler for a beer, then turned to me with questioning eyes. Gabe was nothing like David. I don’t think he had a mean bone in his body.

  “So, you want to tell me what happened?” Gabe stepped forward and gently touched the red spot on my cheek.

  “Nothing happened.” Embarrassed, I flinched away as I pulled my hair to one side.

  His steady, grey eyes looked at me with concern as he let out a sigh. He knew how David was with me, even though it was unspoken and many times I thought him as my rescuer, a buffer between David and me.

  “I’m going home, it’s late.” I took a few steps backward letting Gabe’s eyes intertwine with mine.

  “I should give you a ride,” he said reaching into his pocket for his keys.

  “No!” I nearly yelled out. “It will just make David mad,” I said walking as quickly as I could into the darkness.

  When I got home I didn’t even shower. In our little paper thin trailer, I could hear all of the insects and two tree frogs that lived under one of the shutters beside the window sing all night long.

  I closed my eyes and thought of Gabe. He was a true gentleman and David’s best friend. Both of them moved to St. F at the same time which was about a year ago. I never did hear where they were from, and when I tried to get David to tell me, he was either vague or in one of his moods. I guess it didn’t matter; I had a boyfriend, someone to save me from the black oblivion called St. F. At least that is what I thought at first, now I wasn’t so sure.

  I rolled on my side causing my cheek to hurt, so I rolled the other way and fell asleep.

  The next day was bright, really too bright. I got up, took a shower and examined the nice purple bruise on my cheekbone. It looked like purple eye shadow and I feared it would probably be many different colors before it was gone.

  “Em!” My dad yelled. “Em! God damn it.”

  I went into the kitchen to see him trying to make pancakes, and he had batter all over the pan.

  “Here” I cut in front of him as he held a spatula in one hand and a beer in the other. “You know it might be easier if you used two hands instead of one.”

  I took the utensil away from him and threw the mangled pancake to a dirty plate. He staggered to the table and sat on the tattered vinyl chair.

  I then poured some batter into the pan and watched the bubbles form before flipping it. I sat two cakes in front of him and slammed the syrup bottle on the table. He disgusted me anymore. I had cried, yelled and explained things to him. It was up to him now if he wanted to be sober.

  “Coffee?” I asked in a stiff tone.

  “Please.” His voice rough from all the cigarettes he had smoked for only God knows how long.

  His tangled, thin, brown hair went every direction and you could almost see every bone in his body. His face was long like it had been stretched and had two day stubble on it. That was the extent of his hygiene. He would shower every day and shave a couple times a week.

  “You know Em you do real good,” he said with a small twinkle in his beady eyes.

  I looked at him and wondered what he looked like when he was younger and healthier. Now, he was a withered man poisoned by his own doing.

  “I’m doing it for mom,” I said as I always said when he complimented me on my caregiving.

  He gave a raspy laugh. “Mom,” he chuckled. “Your mama you never knew and she didn’t want you like she didn’t want me. She’s history Em.”

  I looked at him not surprised by his answer, because it was the truth. I never knew her, but often fantasized that she would walk through the door one day; proclaim how she was wrong to leave and tell us she was filthy rich and to come live with her. That of course would never happen.

  “I’m going downtown,” I said standing up.

  “What for?” My dad asked.

  “To see if they can keep the water on for a couple of days until I get paid.” I went back to my room to rummage in a box that I kept my tip money in.

  I counted it-fifteen dollars. I could pay part of the water bill, but I wanted it just for me.

  “I get my check in a week too you know,” My dad said opening another beer.

  I watched him. He was absolutely hopeless.

  “I know, I keep the checkbook, remember,” I said going out the door.

  “What do you want, a damn award!” he yelled back.

  “That would be nice.” He didn’t hear me as I passed by the tall scruffy shrubs that blocked our living arrangements from the rest of St. F.

  Downtown consisted of a line of buildings only a block long with a large building that was the fire department and next to that was city hall. Behind the fire station was a large community park with all kinds of play equipment and a nice bathroom between that and the b
aseball diamond with bleachers. They just installed lights so they could have games at night. When they did, St. F looked like a large city from a distance.

  I went into city hall and explained my situation, as they had before they would leave my water on. I then went across the street to get Jimmy’s mail at the post office before I went into my own oasis from my troubles.

  Above a screen door and painted with an array of mismatched colors, was a sign that read “Pandora’s”. It had all kinds of things in it from kitchen stuff to clothing. What I am interested in is old, gaudy jewelry. It had always been my obsession and I didn’t care what anyone thought of it.

  “Emily.” Pandora was the only one who called me my full name and knew of my jewelry obsession. “I have some new pieces that might interest you. A man just brought them in today.”

  Pandora smiled at me with her rosy cheeks and molded strawberry blonde hair that was always in a neat French twist. Her ring laden fingers pulled from under the glass case a necklace on a rosy gold chain.

  “It’s pretty.” I looked at the opal like stone pendant that shifted with different colors. “How much?”

  “Twenty dollars,” she said with a raise of her penciled-in eyebrows. “What did you do to your eye?”

  I looked at her concerned eyes for a moment. “…Ran into the door last night.” I had used that excuse before and she doesn’t question me anymore.

  I let out a sigh as the door opened and two men in trench coats entered the shop. I looked at them for only a moment and found it strange to see someone wearing a coat in the intense heat. They were clean cut with short hair and sunglasses. Both were the same height, except one had a darker complexion. To me they looked like they just walked off a set of a movie and were portraying F.B.I. characters. But, I know that wasn’t possible in St. F, so that only leaves that they were definitely lost.

  Pandora stiffened as her eyes darted between them and me. I looked back at them wondering if she knew them.

  “Should I come back?” I ask her in a whisper.

  “No, dear, I tell you what, you have bought a lot of jewelry that I might have been stuck with, so I will let you have the necklace for ten bucks.”

  Surprised as her sudden price decline, I pulled out my wallet. “O.K,” I said counting out ten ones.

  The two men fumble through some of the items as if waiting for me to leave. Pandora continued to watch them as I looked at her. She then handed me the bag containing my new treasure. Her hands trembled slightly as she put the money into the register.

  I whispered my concern over the strange men to her, trying to avoid making my concern obvious. She only smiled and shook her head.

  “No, dear I will be fine.” Her eyes fell on them as they continued to rummage through the racks of clothes.

  I looked at Pandora one last time as she motioned for me to go. I hesitated slightly, and glanced over at the dark skinned man that was looking at maternity clothes. His eyes lifted and met mine for only a moment. Like a shadow, he joined the other man at the counter. They blocked Pandora from my view, but I could hear them talk in hushed whispers. The dark skinned man turned his head slowly as if still sensing my presence, smiled, and then motioned with his hand for me to leave. Baffled, I left.

  I could only wonder what they wanted and where they came from, and even more important, what they were doing in St. F. I’ve known Pandora for a couple of years and didn’t want to see anything bad happen to her.

  I went over to the playground and swung on a swing that was low to the ground. Her door sat silent along with the rest of downtown for several minutes. I thought of going to city hall to notify the police, but what were they going to do, arrest them for wearing trench coats and looking suspicious?

  Suddenly, the door flew open and the two men got into a black car a few parking spots away and sped off in a cloud of dust.

  I went back to Pandora’s shop to find her behind the counter just shutting the drawer to her cash register.

  “Emily!” She looked up. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes were wide with surprise.

  “I just came back to check on you,” I said feeling stupid.

  “Well,” She smiled, came around the counter, and put her arm around me. “You don’t need to worry about me. I am quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  “But those guys…they looked…” I stammered my words.

  “They were just here dealing with someone’s estate belongings. The necklace you just bought is from that estate, they were just doing business.” She smiled as she walked me to her door.

  I felt like an idiot for thinking someone was after Pandora. Sometimes, I let my imagination get away from me.

  It is taco night at the Wooden Nickel and my favorite night. I cut up onions, tomatoes, lettuce and peppers from Jimmy’s garden in the kitchen. The smell is wonderful as I inhale the spicy aroma.

  “Smells good Em,” Jimmy said coming into the kitchen.

  I try to tilt my head so he doesn’t see the bruise. My dad didn’t notice, Pandora didn’t question my overused excuse, but Jimmy knows David, and he would beat the crap out of him.

  I know I can’t hide it all night and might as well get it over with. I looked at Jimmy trying to not cry. I don’t know why, but I felt like I let him down.

  “That little bastard!” Fire flickered in his eyes as he looked at my bruise. “That’s it! You’re not seeing him again, do you understand? What is this the third time?’

  I shook my head. “Fourth.” I corrected him. No sense in covering anything up.

  A tense silence filled the kitchen as I stir the onions into the meat and put it into a large pan.

  “You know, I can’t tell you what to do.” Jimmy’s words hung in the air along with the smell of onions.

  I drew in a deep breath. “I’m not seeing him anymore.” I didn’t want to hear his whole lecture and was relieved to hear the words come out of my mouth.

  “Does he know?” Jimmy knows me too well.

  “No,” I reply.

  “Then, I will be there when you do.” I know no matter what I say, Jimmy would be there.

  I smiled at him as he left the kitchen. A crushing stone felt like it had lifted off my chest and I could only hope that David would leave me peacefully.

  Though not as popular as chicken night, a few people came in that usually tipped pretty good.

  “You are going to split that with me?” Jimmy asks teasingly as I exchange my tip money for a larger bill.

  “Whatever do you mean?” I replied in a fake shocked tone.

  He only laughed as I shut the cash drawer when the door opened, and the two men in trench coats entered. The Wooden Nickel for the first time ever fell in silence except for the jukebox blaring out Garth Brooks.

  They sat down in the corner booth. Conversations began to hum again, but their presence was like ice to me. I grabbed a flyer that stated we only serve tacos on Thursdays and paused for a moment before I went to their table. I knew I had to go over, but something about them made my skin crawl.

  “They look like big tippers or do you want me to go over?” Jimmy broke my trance on them.

  “No.” I smiled and then went over.

  “My name is Em-Emily and we only serve tacos on Thursdays.” I placed the flyer on their table as everyone’s eyes casually glanced at them and me.

  They both had their sunglasses off and the darker skinned man had amazingly blue eyes while the lighter skinned one had dark brown eyes. Under their trench coats they had on dark suits and ties.

  “Tacos it is darling,” The lighter man said with an accented voice as he looked at his friend.

  “How ‘bout a beer, Em-Emily?” The darker one said with a wink of his eye.

  “Sorry, it’s just Emily.” I corrected him as I shook my head and he continued to smile at me with his amazingly perfect teeth.

  I went back to give th
eir order to Jimmy when he had a greyish look to his face.

  “Guess what they want?” I asked knowing they really didn’t have a choice, and with no reply from Jimmy. “Tacos, oh, and a beer and I guess a water for the other one. He didn’t say what he wanted. I could go back and…”

  “No, I got them Em.” He didn’t even look at me as he went over to their table.

  I watched Jimmy bend down slightly and talk continually with them as they sat and listen with expressionless faces. After a few moments, Jimmy got up and walked back to the bar as the two men got up and went out the door.

  Jimmy walked past me without a word back into the kitchen.

  “What was that? What did you say to them and who were they?” I asked holding a glass in my hand.

  Jimmy started to do a few dishes. “They were here once before, I didn’t recognize them at first and they are nothing but troublemakers. That is all you need to know.” Jimmy clanked the pots around and sprayed the hose full blast so he couldn’t hear me.

  I went out into the dining room and managed to serve the last few customers, wipe tables and run the register until just about everyone was gone.

  “I think its F.B.I. and they’re on to them Seeley boys. You know they’ve been arrested for drugs before,” Jake said sitting at the bar next to John.

  “I’m not listening to you and your wild story.” John slapped a ten down. “I’m going home, keep the change Em.”

  “Thanks!” I yell as he went out the door.

  Jake sat there for a while as I refill the salt and pepper shakers. He and I are the only ones in the bar; Jimmy is still in the back doing what I don’t know.

  “They were at Pandora’s today and she said they were here to settle an estate and had stuff they were selling. That is what she said anyhow.”

  “I suppose that’s possible, but they still look like F.B.I. to me, and my story sounds better.” Jake smiled and got up from his seat. “Keep the change Em.”

  The bar was empty and for the first time ever I locked the door and pulled the blinds down as Jake’s headlights left the parking lot. I then went back into the office where Jimmy sat with a small desk light illuminating over him.

  “They were at Pandora’s today and she said they were just here to sell some estate things to her.” I leaned against the door jamb with my arms crossed and Jimmy’s back facing me.

  “I’m saying they have been here before and I don’t associate with their kind,” Jimmy said as he wrote in his ledger. “What do you think Em, taco night isn’t as good as it used to be, so… should we try something else?” He tried to change the subject.

  “If taco night attracts trench-coat-wearing-people that had done something so terrible that you won’t tell me, then maybe you should do something else.” He stopped and flicked his pencil before turning to face me.

  “What they did isn’t important, it’s just so they don’t come back.” Jimmy’s low voice rang with a distant dread.