Warning: strong language
Chapter 30
Sharon Gage refolded the letter and gently slid it back into the lavender envelope, clutching it tightly between her trembling hands. It contained answers to questions she and her husband had been asking themselves for the last ten years. Her heart ached for the pain their son must have endured in his efforts to protect them. Sitting beside her husband, she listened to his voice, sensing the anger that he was skillfully hiding just beneath the surface of his words as he conversed with Iris Campbell. As soon as the conversation ended, she linked her arm through his, holding tightly to his elbow as he returned the receiver to the cradle of the black rotary dial phone on the edge of the end table in their living room. The telephone call had lasted longer than either of them had intended, but after a decade of rarely seeing their son, his actions finally made sense to his parents.
"Roddy?" she gasped, fear gripping tightly around her heart.
Roderick Gage was a man of few words, a man whose pride had poisoned his own son. Because of his personal values that put a man's bravery and dedication to his heritage above all else, he had forced his son to make a devastating decision at the tender age of sixteen. Roderick had long suspected he knew why Johnny had chosen to live in California, but Iris' letter and their subsequent phone call had provided the confirmation for his son's flight to the West Coast, leaving the older Gage with no one to blame but himself.
Sharon ran her hand down the silky dark mane along her husband's neck. It was beginning to show a few streaks of gray, just as her own lighter-colored locks were, but he was still just as handsome as the day she had married him. She remembered how proud he had been when their son had been born. John Roderick Gage had been such a beautiful baby. Sharon's thoughts drifted back in time, remembering the smile on the midwife's face when Johnny had displayed what appeared to be a lopsided grin as he lay nestled along his mother's breast. Even with his swollen face and puffy eyes, the newborn knew how to melt a woman's heart.
"Roddy… We're going to go see him," she offered, seeing her husband using the sleeve of his shirt to dry his dampening forehead. The stress of the situation was causing his blood pressure to rise. "You can talk to him then… man to man."
Roddy looked up into the misty blue-green eyes of the woman he had fallen in love with when they were just teenagers. His heart ached for all the time they had missed, and after all these years, the truth was punching him in his gut; his anger over the time they had lost with John burning his heart like molten lava. The distance between the Gages and their son was more Roddy's fault than the fault of the Ku Klux Klan, and they both knew it.
"Sha-Sharon…," he began, his voice sounding frail and weak, unlike the strong man to whom it belonged. "I… It's… my fault," he said, collapsing into her embrace, wrapping his arms around her. "Isn't it?"
"Shhhh," she crooned, carding her fingers through his hair as she embraced him. "He's fine… Iris said he was… And you… you couldn't have known what was going to happen… Besides," she continued, "now we can visit with him and… and you can tell him how you… feel," she said, sniffling as she felt his thin body shuddering within her arms.
"How… How can…?" Roddy didn't finish his question; Sharon, having always been able to read his thoughts, answered his unfinished question.
"Because he has a big heart," she responded without missing a beat. "He's a forgiving soul, Roddy. We raised a good boy… And now he's a successful young man. It'll be okay, sweetheart, I just know it will. He will forgive you."
"And if he doesn't?"
Sharon inhaled deeply, running her hand along his back as their embrace deepened. "Then we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
E!
Iris hung up the phone, swiping at her tears with her fingers. She had taken a chance by writing Johnny's parents a letter explaining why he had had so little contact with them in the last ten years, and breaking a promise she had made to the frightened teenager years earlier. It wasn't just that he wanted to start his career as a fire fighter in Southern California instead of Montana. His reasons went much deeper than that; he had been protecting them from the Ku Klux Klan – or so Iris had always thought.
Iris had listened to Roderick Gage's masculine voice as it cracked with emotions. Her heart was broken for them, but it also held a sense of hope. Reunification was possible, her daughter was proof of that, and she hoped that the Gage family would be reunited very soon as well.
She listened to the sounds of Lily working in their kitchen. The younger woman had insisted on cooking the dinner for their guest. Iris knew that her daughter was deeply in love with Johnny; she just hoped the troubled young man would be able to return those affections. Lily's emotional state was still somewhat fragile and Iris didn't want to upset her in any way.
She stepped into the kitchen, seeing the frustrated look on her daughter's face. "Need some help?"
Lily looked at her with pleading eyes. "Yes… I'm not as good a cook as you are."
Iris smiled, pulling her daughter into a sideways hug. "It just takes practice, Lily... Lots and lots of practice."
Lily turned her attention to the sink, shoving her hands into the soapy water to clean up a few of the dirty dishes. "Was that Mrs. Gage?" she asked, her voice wavering.
"No… It was Roddy."
"What'd he, um, say?" she questioned, rinsing the mixing bowl and placing it in the drain to dry.
"They want to come out here to see him, Lily."
The younger woman spun around on her heels, staring at her mother, forgetting about the suds dripping from her fingers onto the tile floor. "Then you'll have to tell Johnny that you contacted them, won't you?"
Iris, grabbing a dish towel to clean up the wet floor, nodded her head, already dreading that conversation. She batted her eyelashes to rid them of the tears clinging along her lower lid. "Don't worry… If he gets upset, it'll be with me, but I don't think he will. His parents love him dearly," she said, switching dish towels to dry the dishes that Lily had washed. "I just don't understand why he seems so hesitant to call them, now that the threat is over."
Lily turned her attention to the oven, checking on the meatloaf she was baking. She knew the truth, something she had never shared with her mother, or anyone else. Johnny had opened up his heart to her one time, shortly after he moved in with them in California. He had been feeling especially depressed and Lily had held him while he wept. She knew that he had told her more than he had ever wanted her to know, and she had promised him that she would never reveal his secret to anyone. She had kept that promise, but would Johnny assume otherwise? Would he blame her for the actions of her mother? That fear burned her soul just as hotly as the heat from the open oven door.
Assuring herself that the meatloaf was thoroughly cooked, she closed the door and turned off the oven. She just wished she could turn off her concern for Johnny so easily.
E!
Ronald Crockett twisted his wrist, realizing that he had spent far too long at the office. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyelids long enough to give his tired eyes a brief respite. He had been pouring over the FBI reports of the events at The Unity Family compound, adding his own notes from what he had witnessed. He gathered up the papers, tapping them on the desk to align them, then slipped them inside the large brown envelope. He stood up, pulling his coat from the back of his desk chair. He slipped it on, adjusted the collar, and was about to walk out of his office when his phone rang. He turned back, staring at the shrill sounding object. Briefly he considered allowing it to ring, but his curiosity won the internal battle. He picked up the receiver, his exhausted voice greeting the caller.
"Crockett here."
"Hey there, Ron. How's things on the other side o' the country?"
The lieutenant allowed a grin to spread across his dark features. "Slim… We're doing alright. And how are things in the Deep South?"
"Oh, still hot as hell, but that's nothin' new."
Ron propped one hip on the corner of his desk. He was hoping that his friend had received the photographs he had sent. "How'd you know I would still be here?"
"Well, when I didn't get an answer at your house, I just assumed that's where you'd be. I mean, it ain't like those of us in law enforcement have any kind o' social life, right?"
Ron clucked his tongue in rebuke. "Now, now, Slim... You speak for yourself. I'm doing okay with the ladies."
This time it was Slim who cackled into the telephone. "And you're still a liar, too."
Feeling the need to change the subject from his dismal love life, Ron shifted the conversation. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this conversation?"
"Well now, I 'spect you already know the answer to that. I got your package and I got to tell ya..." The Selma law enforcement officer released a long slow whistle. "This is jus' what the prosecution needed."
Ron offered a soft snort as his only response.
"I showed 'em to the DA and… Well, let's jus' say that he's plannin' on lettin' that high dollar defense attorney know what kind o' evidence we've got against his client jus' as soon as he gets in his office in the mornin'."
"Do you think the old man will want to cut a deal?" Ron asked hopefully, realizing that a plea bargain would allow Johnny to escape testifying and spare the Campbell family from having to relive the nightmare of Phillip's murder.
"If he's smart, but… No one ever accused William Waite o' bein' the sharpest tool in the shed," he said in a voice that let Ron know that he was smiling. "The DA is hopin' he'll confirm the identity o' the, um… o' the other fellawho was with 'em that mornin'. The one that killed the priest."
"You said you already knew who it was," Ron said quickly, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion.
"Knowin' and provin' are two different things, Crockett. The judge won't let my gut feelin' take the witness stand. Besides, if it's who we think it is, then I'm sure there'll be a request for a change of venue. The national news is gonna descend on Selma again, I 'spect."
"Yea… No doubt about that." Ron lowered his gaze to the floor. He needed to know who else had been informed of the pictures. "Say, Slim… Have you told Kizzy Campbell?" The silence that followed answered his question.
Slim exhaled loudly into the phone. "No… Not yet. I'm afraid she might want to see 'em and… God knows that no momma needs to see her boy like that. The pictures are clear enough to tell how… how bloody he was. She knows what happened, but to see it right there in front o' her… Nu-uh… I don't want her to see 'em."
"Okay… so what's the plan? I know you didn't call me just to tell me you got the pictures."
"You're a good detective, aren't ya?" the other man chuckled softly. "I need you to talk to your man out there. We may need Mr. Gage to come on back to Selma sooner than we thought."
"Why? How does Johnny factor into the pretrial wheeling and dealing between the DA and the defense?" Ron asked, worried for his friend. Johnny had had a very close call in Tehachapi, and the detective wasn't sure the paramedic was ready to face the demons he had left behind along the Alabama River in 1965.
"Our DA is one o' the brightest crayons in the box, Crockett, and-"
"Oh? I knew he must be a man of color," Ron interrupted, hoping to inject a little humor into the tense conversation.
"Well… now that you mention it, yea he is, but that has nothin' to do with this case. In fact, he's tryin' real hard to keep his race out of it. Anyway… Since we've got the pictures AND a witness, then that ought to scare the shit out o' Waite? Mr. Pettway, the District Attorney, is hopin' that he'll start singin' like a bird."
"A jail bird?"
"Ah-haha, yea, that's right… With a little luck, we can solve the murder of Phillip Campbell AND get the truth about Father Mitchell's alleged suicide, too… I mean, Waite's voice is kind o' slurred now, and he's confined to a wheelchair, but-"
"But you think with enough pressure, he'll confirm the identity of the Sheriff's Deputy in those pictures?"
"Yea… Yea, we hope he will… So, will you talk to Mr. Gage? Or would you at least give 'im my number and ask 'im to give me a call? He can reverse the charges; I'll accept 'em."
"And if Johnny refuses to testify?" Ron asked, unsure if it would be in Johnny's best interest to go to Selma so soon after the events in Tehachapi. The lieutenant already knew that Johnny couldn't remember what had happened on that March morning, but his friend from Selma didn't.
"Well, now see… That's the beauty o' this whole plan. Gage may not have to testify… Not yet, anyway. All he's got to do is jus' be here an' act like he's gonna do it."
The muscles on Ron's face relaxed a bit. "So… won't the DA want to depose him?"
"Yes, if he has to, but maybe if Waite just sees 'im, then he'll agree to a plea bargain, beg for leniency if he turns state's evidence. But-"
"Whoa, now hang on just a damn minute, Slim," Crockett said angrily, standing up from his perch on the corner of his desk. "Are you saying that that sonofabitch is gonna get away with murdering Campbell, a black man, if he testifies against his accomplice who killed a white man? So the life of a white man is worth more than the life of a black man?" Crockett could feel his blood pressure rising.
"NO!" Slim retorted, raising his voice into the phone. "Now you know me better than that, Crockett, and that ain't what the DA is sayin' either."
"Then please enlighten me, 'cause that's sure as hell what it looks like from where I'm standing," Ron replied, placing a balled up fist on his hip.
"By turnin' state's evidence, Waite will have to admit that he was there, and that means he's guilty of murder, too. He's had a stroke that left him a crippled old man, Crockett. He ain't gonna be on this side o' eternity much longer. So why not get convictions for BOTH murders? Mr. Pettway's prepared to offer Waite house arrest instead o' prison if he admits to his part in the death of Campbell AND testifies against the deputy. If Waite. thinks that Gage is gonna testify as an eye witness, then he'll realize he may go to prison. I really think that if we put enough pressure on 'im, he'll do what we want."
"And if he doesn't?" Crockett asked, feeling his anger beginning to subside. Slim Smitherman's comments really were making sense.
"Well... If testimony is necessary, then all Gage has to say is that he's the fella that took those pictures. He's not some young teenager anymore. He's a grown man, a respected member of his community, and that makes 'im a very solid witness. The DA wants to use that to turn up the heat on Waite."
Ron sat silently for a few moments, going over the plan in his mind. He knew it was a good one, but would Johnny agree to it? He knew the paramedic was stressed out about the idea of testifying at the trial in early spring, but would he be able to give a deposition in the next few days?
"Ahem, how soon do you need Johnny down there?" Crockett asked.
"Oh, in 'bout a week to ten days, not sure 'xactly."
"Alright… I'll talk to him, Slim, but I really don't know if he'll be willing to do it."
"You know we could issue a subpoena, Crockett," Slim added. It wasn't a threat; he just needed to make sure that the detective explained everything to their star witness. "O' course, we'd rather it look like he's jus' itchin' to tell us what he knows."
"I know… But I doubt that a subpoena will be necessary, unless he needs it to give to the fire department so he can get the time off. I assume that the DA's office is picking up the bill for the travel expenses?"
"You bet," Slim stated.
Seeing his opportunity, Ron added more to the request. "What about travel companions? I bet Johnny wouldn't hesitate if the DA offered to pay for plane tickets for Iris and Lily Campbell, too."
"You West Coast boys drive a hard bargain, don't ya?"
Ron snickered on the other end of the line.
"You get Johnny to agree to come without us havin' to subpoena him, and I'll betcha the DA will pay for the two extra tickets," Slim said, laughing into the phone. He had already decided to pay for Iris and Lily's travel expenses out of his own pocket if Mr. Pettway's budget wouldn't allow for it. He knew that having additional support for the murder victim would increase the pressure on Waite, and offer comfort for Johnny and Kizzy.
"Deal," Ron said, "I'll give you a call back in a day or two. Just give me time to talk it over with Johnny and the Campbell ladies," Ron added.
The two men finished their phone call. Ron returned the receiver to the cradle, swiped his hand along the wall to turn off the light, and headed out the office door. He had to think of a way to broach the subject with Johnny… and then he had to talk to Iris.
E!
Johnny leaned back from Iris' dinner table, rubbing his protruding belly. "That was the best meal I've eaten in a very long time."
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Lily said with a grin, grateful to her mother for helping her cook the dinner. She had wanted to impress Johnny with her culinary skills, but Iris had stepped in at the last minute to prevent a total disaster.
"You're as good a cook as your mom," Johnny beamed, his lopsided grin adorning his face. His life was definitely improving, at least this part was getting better.
"Um, Johnny..."
The dark-haired paramedic looked over at his surrogate mother. "Yea?"
Iris sucked in her bottom lip, cutting her daughter a glance. Lily bowed her head, fearful that Johnny would be very upset over what her mother was about to tell him.
Johnny shifted his head from side to side, watching the unspoken messages passing between the Campbell ladies. "What's goin' on?" he asked, a shadow crossing his handsome features.
"I've done something that... I hope you won't be mad at me, but..."
"But...?" he asked, lifting his eyebrows as he leaned forward, his full stomach suddenly queasy.
"I contacted your parents," Iris blurted out.
Johnny silently stared down at the remnants of the meal he had just consumed. His face reddened as his jaw muscles began to flex and relax, a sure sign that he was growing agitated. His silence roared at Iris, and she knew that he was upset with her. When he looked up, narrowing his dark eyes in her direction, she immediately regretted what she had done.
Johnny cleared his throat, obviously struggling to keep his temper in check. "Why?"
It was a simple question and a fair one. Iris knew she owed him an explanation. "The threat is over, Johnny. Roddy and Sharon are no longer at risk. And... I thought they deserved to know... the truth."
Johnny's breathing became irregular; he scrubbed his face with both hands, clearly choosing his words carefully. "The truth?"
"Yes," Lily piped in.
Johnny jerked his head to look directly into Lily's eyes. Had she divulged his secret? His dark eyes bore into her soul, pleading for her to silently tell him that his secret was still safe with her. Lily pressed her lips together tightly, trying to think of the right words to use to relay the information he needed to hear. Johnny bit the inside of his jaw until he tasted the metallic taste of his own blood.
"Mom told them everything she knows about what happened," she explained.
The message was a subtle one, but it was enough to reassure him that Lily hadn't betrayed his trust. Iris had told them the truth… as she knew it.
"I'm sorry," Iris mumbled, beginning to tremble as she cried. "I... I thought I was doing... the right thing."
"Well, think again," he huffed, pushing away from the table and walking over to the kitchen sink, staring out the window at his Rover parked in her driveway.
Iris and Lily exchanged worried glances.
Iris stood up, walking over to the place where Johnny was standing. "I'm sorry, Johnny, but I don't see why you're so upset. I mean, okay, so I should've let you tell them yourself, but... I was afraid that you wouldn't."
He spun around, glaring his angry dark eyes at her. "You're right... I wouldn't've… Not yet."
"But you can't stay away from them, Johnny," she said in a raised voice, grabbing his upper arm to turn him so that he could see the tears streaking her face. "I know what it's like to have a child that you can't get to." She hesitated, hearing her daughter softly sniffling at the table. "I know how they feel, but you had no choice, not really... not until now. They're safe now… We all are."
Johnny jerked his arm away from her, returning to look out the window once more, his mind taking him back to the last couple of times he had seen his parents. They had attended his graduation from the Fire Academy. It was both the happiest and the hardest day of his life. What should have been a joyful occasion was one filled with fear and trepidation. He had only returned to Montana once since then, and the brief visit there was once again clouded by worry. Both times had been very difficult for him, but he had never told anyone the real reason why… except Lily, and obviously she hadn't revealed it to her mother. For that, he was grateful. He flared his nostrils, not moving as he asked Iris his next question.
"How... are they doin'?"
Feeling a bit more hopeful, Iris stepped up to him again. "Well... they're doing just fine, still in good health."
He nodded his head slightly, his heart leaping into his throat. "What'd... what'd they say… 'bout me?"
"How much they love you," Iris responded, gulping when she saw him pinching the bridge of his nose. "How much they want to... see you. And..." She looked back at Lily, seeing the younger woman drying her eyes with her napkin. "And that... they're very proud of you... for what you did... for them."
Johnny reached out for the countertop, leaning against it for support. His rough exterior had been damaged, but still he refused to succumb to the emotions that were threatening to escape from his crumbling façade. As he struggled to regain his composure, Iris slowly reached out to him, running her hands along his back in a motherly manner.
"You... should o'... left it... 'lone, Iris."
"You have nothing to be ashamed of, Johnny. They love you and... and now they understand."
"I would o' told 'em," he managed to say, even though it was in direct contrast to his earlier statement.
"When?"
He shrugged his shoulders, hearing Lily's chair scraping across the wooden floor. Immediately, she was at his side running her hand up and down his back as well. She felt his trembling muscles beneath her hand and her heart broke for him.
"I... was gonna wait... 'til after the... trial."
"Well," Iris began, still rubbing soothing circles on his back. "Now you don't have to wait... They'll be here on October 5th."
"Ohmygod!" Johnny moaned, hanging his head. "That's less than two weeks away," he groaned, struggling to regain his composure. "That's… I mean, I… I need more time to…," he swallowed hard, feeling his throat constricting. Iris didn't know the real reason for his reluctance. "I jus'… I can't."
"You can... and you will. You're stronger than you think, John Gage," the older woman said in a firm voice, not understanding his reaction.
"Ah... Ah-ha," he laughed sarcastically at the irony of her comments. "Yea... Strong... that's me... I've been afraid of damn ghosts for the last ten years," he grunted through gritted teeth, slamming his hand down on the counter, making the two ladies jump. In his mind's eye, he saw the flowing white robes and hoods that covered the cowards who hid beneath them, and felt his knees tremble just from the memory.
"Johnny," Iris said softly. "They're flying in and they'll be staying here. I'd like for you to stay here, too."
"Can't," he said, pushing away from the counter, running his hand down his face. "I've got to work."
"No, you don't... not the whole time."
Johnny spun around to face the two women, feeling as if the walls were closing in on him. The air became thicker and the temperature in the room seemed to rise. "What do you want from me, Iris?"
"I want you to talk to your parents, John. I want you to reconnect with them."
Johnny ran a finger beneath his nose, sniffling. "C-can't."
"John."
"I CAN'T!" he yelled, running both hands through his hair. "If you told them everything... EVERYTHING... then... they aren't comin' here to... reconnect," he said, waving his arms, animatedly. "They're comin' here to... disown me."
"John Gage!"
"What? You don't believe me?"
"NO!" Iris yelled back, matching her voice to his while Lily stood silent.
"Well, it's true. I," he began, pointing his middle finger at his own chest, "I... I did something my... my father... will hate me for. And... I really didn't want him to know, but… maybe you didn't realize it, but... But you told 'im, Iris... You told 'im."
"What did I tell him besides the truth? That you were threatened by the KKK and that they were threatening your parents, too. I told them the truth, Johnny. The whole goddamn TRUTH!" she spat out, not caring that her daughter was hearing her swear.
"And that's the problem," Johnny said, his voice gravelly. "Now they know the truth about their son... their ONLY son..." he continued mumbling something unintelligible as he walked back through the house, picking up his jacket from the back of the sofa. He hesitated at the front door with his hand poised on the knob. "I really did enjoy dinner." He turned to look over his shoulder at the two stunned women. "I'm sorry... to both of you... You didn't know what you were doin', Iris. I'm sorry I blew up at you. I... I really am sorry," he said in a fading voice as he turned the knob and jerked open the door. He had to get out of the house, get some fresh air, and figure out how he was going to face the people he loved more than life itself, no matter how they felt about him. He couldn't keep hiding from them. At twenty-six years old, it was time for him to face his father… And accept his fate.
E!
Ron Crockett swirled the amber liquid in the bottom of the glass as he held the receiver to his ear, listening to the endless ringing of Johnny's phone. He returned the receiver to the cradle, uttering a mumbled curse as he tossed the rest of his whiskey into the back of his mouth. He squinted his eyes as his throat protested the harsh burn that ran from his tongue down to his stomach. He leaned his head back against the pad of his favorite chair, staring at the old movie that was playing on his television set. He didn't recognize any of the actors, but it was only on for the noise. He hated silence and he hated being alone on a Monday night. He shifted his gaze back to the telephone, wondering if he should contact Iris before he spoke to Johnny.
"Aww, what the hell," he muttered, flipping open the address book he always kept beside his phone. He ran his finger down the list of names until he reached the one he was looking for.
Across town, Iris was washing the dinner dishes while Lily was taking her shower. Neither of them had said very much after Johnny left. Iris knew that Lily was upset with her, but she still felt that she had done the right thing. The Gages needed to know that their son loved them enough to stay away fromthem, to save them from the cruelty of the Ku Klux Klan, and it was obvious that Johnny needed to reconnect with his parents; his earlier outburst was proof of that. Somewhere behind the mussed up hair, crooked grin, and macho bravado was a little boy who never really got over the sudden departure from his parents' home when he was just a kid.
Just as she placed the last dish into the dish drain, her phone began to ring. Assuming that it was Johnny, she quickly dried her hands and answered the call.
"Hello?"
"Iris? It's Ron."
Iris closed her eyes and leaned against the kitchen wall; his voice was just the balm her wounded heart needed right now.
"Hi."
The two friends talked for several minutes. The lieutenant shared Slim Smitherman's plan, including the free trip back to Selma for she and Lily, and Iris informed him of the dinner fiasco that had occurred earlier at her home.
"Well, Caroline is doing really well at the shop. I think she's ready for the responsibility of running it by herself for a few days. So, when would this trip take place?"
Ron cleared his throat, wishing he had another drink. "Ahem… Not sure, but Slim thinks it'll be in a week or two."
Iris' hand flew to her mouth. "Oh no!"
"Is that a problem?"
"Ah… Yes…," she managed to say, struggling to force her words past the growing lump in her throat. "That's around the time that his parents are to arrive here in LA."
"Aw man," Ron grumbled, scrubbing his face with his hand. "That means he won't want to go to Selma then. Can't they come sooner?"
Iris shook her head, even though Ron couldn't see the gesture. "No… His father owns a small ranch and he's got to take care of a few things before they can leave."
Ron sighed into the receiver, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. "Um… I guess I need to call Slim back and-"
"Whoa, wait," Iris interrupted, her mind quickly formulating a plan. "This might work out perfectly…"
E!
Johnny opened the door to his darkened apartment, dropping his keys into the wooden bowl in his foyer before he turned on the lights. His sparsely decorated apartment made it easy to find the bowl without even looking, even in total darkness.
He slipped off his jacket, tossing it haphazardly towards his recliner as he headed for his refrigerator. He needed a drink to settle his nerves; he had to figure out how he was going to face his parents in a couple of weeks. He retrieved a beer, peeling off the tab and dropping it into his trash bin as he turned up the can to guzzle the frothy liquid. The shrill ringing of his telephone surprised him, causing him to strangle a bit.
"Ahua," he coughed, reaching for the phone on the kitchen wall. He held his hand on the receiver, convinced that Iris was on the other end of the line. "Shit!" he swore, not wanting to further discuss what she had done.
He belched loudly, grateful to be alone in his apartment, then picked up the telephone on the third ring.
"Yea," he said curtly.
"John? Hey, it's Crockett. You got a minute?"
"O' course," Johnny replied, taking another large swig of his beer.
The next few minutes were spent with Ron listing all the reasons why Johnny should fly to Selma in a couple of weeks. Just as Iris had suspected, Johnny readily agreed.
"That's great, Gage. I'm glad you're so willing to go back there. I know it won't be easy for you."
"Yea, well… sometimes life ain't easy," Johnny mumbled, finishing his beer.
"Oh, and Iris and Lily will be going with you," Ron added, hoping it sounded more like an afterthought than a part of the original plan.
"Ha, yea, well… They've got some, um, guests coming out for a visit so I doubt they'll be able to go."
Ron grimaced, thankful that Johnny couldn't see his face at the moment. He knew who Iris' guests were and he was dumbfounded by Johnny's reaction.
"Actually, I've already talked to her… just now, when I couldn't get you on the phone, and she mentioned something about her guests having to change their plans. I guess they'll visit her later," the clever lieutenant stated.
"Yea… I guess so," Johnny said, shifting the receiver to the crook of his neck. Then, standing several feet away from his garbage can, he lifted his hands above his head as if making the game winning shot from half-court, and rolled his eyes when the beer can sailed in an arc across the room, clanking on the tile floor beside his intended target. He returned the receiver of the phone to his hand as he opened the refrigerator door and reached in for a second can.
"Okay, well," Ron stammered. He had planned on having to convince Johnny to make the trip so to have him agree so quickly left the lieutenant with nothing more to say. "I'll get back with Slim and he'll set it all up. Will you have trouble getting off for a couple of shifts?
"Nah, Chief McAsshole a'ready said they'd give me the time off… with pay," the paramedic said, immediately squeezing his eyes shut. He wasn't sure how Lieutenant Crockett felt about Chief McConnike.
Ron laughed into the phone, his whiskey lightening his mood. "McAsshole? Kind of a brazen comment to make about your superior officer, isn't it?"
"Yea, well, he pro'bly wouldn't like you any more than he likes me," Johnny said softly.
"Oh… I get it, man," the ebony detective mumbled. He knew exactly what Johnny was talking about. "Don't let 'im get to you, John."
"I won't," the paramedic replied, pulling the tab off the cold can.
Ron heard the popping noise, and the burping sounds that Johnny was trying to muffle. "And take it easy on the beer."
"Aha, yea… okay. So, jus' lemme know when I'm headin' back south, a'right?"
"Will do, Gage. You take care."
Johnny hung up the phone, clenching his jaws together tightly. His shaggy bangs were sticking to his forehead, his body temperature rising in response to his anxiety. He wanted to kick, punch, or throw something, but he couldn't afford to damage his apartment, or his body. It looked like he would be facing his tormentor much sooner than expected. The only silver lining to the storm cloud on his horizon was that it might help him delay facing his parents, especially his father.
He grabbed an entire six pack of beer from his refrigerator and headed for his living room. It was Monday night, so he knew there would be a football game on, something that would hopefully take his mind off of his circumstances.
He punched the button on his old television set, then dropped the beer on his coffee table as he plopped into his recliner, waiting for the T.V. to warm up. He noticed his journal lying haphazardly, teetering on the edge of the coffee table. Opening another can of beer, he leaned back, waiting for the kickoff of whichever game was about to start, but his eyes kept drifting to the journal. Dr. Robertson had encouraged him to write down his thoughts and feelings, especially during times of distress. Now seemed to be just such a time.
He leaned forward, retrieving the black and white journal along with the green pen that had fallen on the floor, and turned to the first page. He read over the notes he had written previously, his thoughts drifting back through the years. When he reached the end of what he had written, he clicked on the pen and began to write. He poured his heart out on the blank pages, sharing more of himself with an inanimate object than he had ever shared with a living person.
By the time the football game was entering its second quarter, Johnny had filled up several pages of his journal, and emptied two more cans of beer. His body was relaxing under the influence of the alcohol, and his need for hiding certain elements of his past was melting away, too. He noticed his handwriting was growing sloppier as his alcohol induced buzz was increasing.
Johnny heard his telephone ringing and struggled to shift his recliner into the upright position. He stood up quickly, stumbling over his coffee table as he made his way to the telephone.
"Hel-looo," he drawled out.
"Johnny?" Roy questioned, concerned by the sound of his partner's voice.
"Heyyy Pally, wha's up?"
"Um, are you okay?"
"Yup… doin' go-ood," Johnny stuttered around the sudden belch.
"Uh, well… I was wondering if you wanted a little OT tomorrow? I just got a call from Hookraider. His two medics want to take off, and he wanted to see if we wanted to pull a double shift."
"Uh… I can't… I got to… see, uh… Dr. Ro-Rober'son tom'row," he struggled to string his words together.
"No, you don't need to miss that… Ah, are you drunk, Junior?" Roy knew the answer, but he wondered if Johnny would tell him the truth.
"Um, yea… Li' bit," Johnny said, snickering uncontrollably.
"How much have you had?" Roy asked, concerned about his partner's state of mind, knowing that Johnny had been thinking about killing himself not so long ago, and alcohol was a depressant.
"Ohhh, no' quite 'nough," Johnny replied, leaning against the wall and sliding to the floor. "I ain't had much alcohol in a… long time."
"Well, I think you've had enough. Are you drinking alone?" Roy was growing more and more worried.
"Yep… Jus' me an'… uh…," he leaned over enough to see the television screen. He wasn't even sure which teams were playing. He immediately recognized the uniforms of the home team. "Me an' the lambs, uh, I mean… ahaaha… Rams," he said, laughing hysterically and inadvertently snorting into the phone.
Roy, thinking quickly, realized that the ballgame would give him a good reason to check on his partner.
"Well, the kids and Jo are watching 'Little House on the Prairie,'so do you mind if I join you?"
"Nope… c'mon o'er, Pal-ly... Or should I say… Pa?" Johnny said, snickering loudly at his own drunken attempt at humor.
"I'll see you in a few minutes… And I'll bring you some coffee," Roy said, hanging up the telephone.
Roy grabbed his jacket and stepped into the living room. "Jo, I'm going over to Johnny's for a few minutes."
Joanne looked up from the magazine she had been perusing, worry filling her green eyes. She cut a quick glance at the children who were engrossed in the television program they were watching, then looked back at her husband. "Is everything okay?"
Roy smiled at his wife, not wanting her to worry. "Yea, but Johnny's going to have quite a headache in the morning." He gave her a flirtatious wink, knowing that Joanne would understand. "I'm going to pick up some strong coffee on my way over."
Joanne smiled, slowly shaking her head then returning her attention back to the magazine in her lap.
"Johnny, Johnny, Johnny," she mumbled softly.
E!
Back at the Campbell residence, Iris hung up her telephone after talking with Roddy and Sharon Gage for the second time today. She felt certain that she could reconcile herself to Johnny by telling him that his parents would no longer be visiting him in LA because of the interview he had scheduled in Selma. But she had no intention of telling him that the District Attorney and others associated with prosecuting William Waite wouldn't be the only people he would be seeing when he arrived in the small Alabama town.