Purgatory Ridge

“Fine. Lemme start,” the Captain said. She leaned her arms heavily on the table. “First of all, I’m grateful I’ve got a daughter who could cook for the angels and a daughter who could argue her way outta hell.” She raised her glass, full of Jim Beam, to both of them. “This past year-let me see… I’ve been grateful the U.S. Army has seen fit to assign me to this military base in the most godforsaken part of the world and to put me and my family up in the worst excuse for base housing I’ve ever seen. I’ve also been grateful for waking up alone every fucking day and for never having to worry about a toilet seat being all dribbled on with a man’s pee.” She drank from her glass and thought a moment. “As for next year, well, I guess I’m just looking forward to a lot more of the same. Happy New Year, girls.” She lifted her glass once more. This time, as she set her drink back down, her hand caught the edge of her plate and sent it flying. The room was quiet. The Captain stared where the broken plate and the food splattered across the floor. Rose stood to clean up the mess.

“Leave it,” the Captain snapped.

Rose sat down.

“My turn,” Jo said angrily. “You want to know what I’ve been grateful for all year?”

“The invention of condoms?” The Captain sipped from her glass and eyed her daughter over the rim.

“Like every year before, it takes me that much closer to getting away.”

“So much for the past. What, pray tell, are you looking forward to?”

“Another year of busting my butt to get straight A’s, to be the absolute best at what I do. Because when I get out of here, I’m going to the top. Which, believe you me, will take me about as far from you as possible.”

The Captain raised her glass. “Here’s to the future, kid. Godspeed.”

Across the table, their glares collided like trains meeting head-on. They both turned toward Rose.

“I’m grateful,” Rose began in the way she always did, quietly, addressing their angry gazes with unwavering calm, “that I’m never lonely, because I know a lot of people are. And even though it’s not much, I’m grateful for the roof over our heads because some people sleep in cardboard boxes. I’m grateful that the soldiers coming back hurt from Vietnam have someone as skilled as my mother to take care of them. And I’m grateful I have a sister who knows so many things and helps me with my homework and talks to me when we’re in bed at night. I’m grateful for what I remember of my father because they’re good things.” She paused a moment and a smile came to her lips. “As for this year, I’m looking forward to worrying less that I’m fat and have freckles, and worrying more about why God put me here in the first place.” She sat back. Then leaned forward once more, quickly. “And I’m looking forward to finally being finished with geometry.”

For a few moments, the only sound was the hum of the wind through the weather stripping on the front door. Then the Captain put aside her glass and reached her hands across the table to her daughters.

Later, they walked, all of them, arm in arm in flurries of snow that forever after made Jo think of white rose petals.

Her conflicts with the Captain never really ended. Her mother’s bitterness was always there, just below the surface, hauled up swiftly and easily by whiskey on the rocks. Which was why Jo seldom drank and never to excess. She was afraid her mother was inside her, just under her skin. She often felt that if she let herself, she could easily self-destruct. There had been times in her life when she’d seemed right on the edge, but always something happened to bring her back. As if the angels Rose so fiercely believed in had interceded.

She looked up from her legal pad, surprised to see that the sunlight through the window had dramatically shifted and was crawling up the eastern wall. She glanced at her watch. After five. That meant Fran had already gone. She should be heading home, too. As she started to put her pad away, there was a knock at her office door.

“Come in.”

Smooth as a big ball bearing and white as a new morgue sheet, Hell Hanover’s head thrust in, followed by his limping body. “Afternoon, Jo.”

“Helm. What can I do for you?”

“Just hoping you might be able to verify or put to rest a couple of rumors floating around town.” Without being asked, he sat in the chair on the far side of her desk. In his hand he held a large brown envelope.

Jo folded her hands on her desk and said, “Run them by me and I’ll see what I can do.”

He smiled. A crack in an egg. “I understand Cork’s been instrumental in the investigation of the bombing at Lindstrom’s mill. Is that true?”

“Any question you have about the investigation should be addressed to Sheriff Schanno, don’t you think?”

Hanover laughed, sounding genuinely amused. “Lawyers,” he said, and shook his head. “Let me ask you another question, then. I understand Cork’s thinking of running for sheriff in the November election.”

Jo waited. “That’s not a question.”

“Is it true?”