“Joan—that’s the name of the mother?”
She nodded. “Joan Johnson. She was a waitress at the Red Lantern. She’d had an affair with a smooth-talking huckster a month earlier. He said he sold oil field equipment, and he scammed Tommy Joe Harmon out of nearly four thousand dollars—which was a lot of money back then, let me tell you—and then he up and left town.” She took another drag from her cigarette. “A month later, Joan finds out she’s in a motherly way.”
She shook her head and blew out a smoke ring. “That Joan—’bout as gullible a girl as you could find. That shyster promised to take her to Paris. Paris! Can you imagine fallin’ for a line like that? She’d even asked me if I’d watch her dog while she was gone. She had this scraggly little mutt she loved more than life itself.”
She shook her head. “Anyway, Joan was in a mell of a hess, as we used to say, when she found out she was pregnant. She didn’t have people.”
Hope’s forehead wrinkled. “People?”
“Family. Her people had all moved away or died off. She was a sweet girl—she had a real soft heart. Little soft in the head, too, I think. If you saw the way she carried on about her mutt, you’d know for sure she was a mite pixilated.” She pointed to her head.
“Anyway. This man—name was Charlie; I called him Charlie Horse, because he always wore such a long face—starts comin’ to the bar pretty regular, every couple of weeks or so. He’s a woebegone-lookin’ fella. Don’t know as I ever saw such a hangdog face in my life.”
I pictured the man in the photo with his heart in his eyes. I could just imagine how he’d look if that heart had been broken.
“You remembered his name,” Hope said, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Honey, I remember everything that happened. He and Joan had one of the strangest stories you ever heard.” She took another pull on her cigarette.
“Anyway, Joan hated to see folks lookin’ sad. We all did. Customers down in the dumps never left good tips, and they have a way of dragging down the mood of the whole place. But that wasn’t why Joan chatted him up. Like I said, she had a soft heart. It was her downfall, really, being that soft. She said he seemed lonely. So they started talking, and before you know it, she’s told him her situation.
“Well, Charlie offered to help her out. He said he’d take care of her when she started to show and couldn’t work—that he’d pay her rent and buy her groceries and pay for the doctor.”
“So they had an affair?” I asked.
“No. That’s the weird part. He just wanted the baby. Said he was gonna tell his wife he’d had an affair and gotten a girl pregnant, and he wanted to bring the baby home and have his wife raise it as some kind of punishment or payback or some such. He had this wild scheme about his wife padding her stomach and tricking everyone into thinking she was pregnant herself.”
A mellow musical gong sounded, like the recorded dinner announcement on a cruise ship.
“That’s lunch,” Miss Darlene said. “I’ve gotta go in if I don’t want to miss out.”
“We won’t keep you but another moment,” I said. “So what finally happened?”
“Well, Joan worked at the bar until the beginning of the sixth month, and then Hank—he was the owner; kind of a gorilla, but not as bad as some I’ve known—told her she had to quit. Said she was bad for business, too much a reminder of the wages of sin. The boardinghouse she lived in kicked her out, too. Life was hard on unmarried pregnant girls back then.” She took another toke of her Virginia Slim.
“Hank had this dive of a house he rented for special customers to use, if you get my drift, and Charlie sublet it for Joan.”
“He treated her well?” Hope asked.
“Oh yeah. He was real good to her—paid for her food, maternity clothes, and everything else. Took her dog to the vet and bought it a collar with her new address on the tag because that mutt was always gettin’ lost. He even bought her a new set of luggage so she could move somewhere else after everything was all over. Toward the end of her pregnancy, he even paid a woman to cook and clean and take care of her after she had the baby. Beulah was her name.”
Darlene paused as a woman in blue scrubs came out the door. “Charlie would visit Joan every Friday. He’d drink and caterwaul about how his wife was cold and mean to him. Joan realized he didn’t really want the baby. He only wanted to make his wife jealous, and the wife wasn’t actin’ jealous; she just acted as if she despised him. He’d talk about his wife and cry. He was a weepy drunk.”
She took another pull off her cigarette. “Well, as Joan’s belly got bigger and bigger, the baby started to seem more an’ more real. Joan started thinkin’ about the poor little thing, an’ she decided she didn’t want a sad-sack crazy man and a woman who didn’t want his baby to be raisin’ it. But she needed financing, to make it through the pregnancy, so she led Charlie on—and on the side, she started makin’ adoption arrangements with a local doctor. He found a couple in Alabama willing to pay good money for the baby. She’d get a lump sum and the doctor would get a nice fat finder’s fee.”
Darlene inhaled a deep lungful of smoke. “By then, Charlie had moved to Jackson with his wife, and he was comin’ by every Tuesday and Thursday evening. Joan delivered the baby at home on a Wednesday night, and the doctor whisked the baby out of state. Joan didn’t call Charlie like she’d promised she would when the baby came. Instead, the next night when he was due to visit, she made sure she had another waitress, Sarah, and her husband, Ben, with her, as well as Beulah. She was worried what Charlie would do when he found out the baby was gone.”
“Oh, wow,” Hope whispered.
“It’s a good thing she had people with her, because when Joan broke the news, well, Charlie went crazy. Not violent crazy, just crazy crazy. They say he let out a loud yowl, fell to his knees, and rolled around on the floor, then got up and paced and cried, cried and paced. Sarah’s husband poured him glass after glass of bourbon until Charlie was in a stupor.
“Finally, around three in the morning, he left the house. He wasn’t drivin’ too good. Sarah and Ben left shortly thereafter. They found Charlie standin’ on the side of the road, a pistol in his hand.”
“Oh no!” Hope murmured.
“Apparently he’d accidentally run over Joan’s dog. The poor thing wasn’t dead, but he was in bad shape, so Charlie had gotten his pistol out of the car and shot it to put it out of its misery. Ben grabbed the gun and put it in his own car. He said he was afraid Charlie might try to kill himself.
“Sarah and Ben drove on home, but Charlie wrapped that dog in a baby blanket—apparently he had one in the trunk for takin’ the baby home—then turned around an’ carried it up to Joan’s front door. Well, Joan was hysterical. She thought he’d killed her dog out of spite, to get even with her. She was scared he’d come back to kill her. Charlie tried to explain that he was sorry as sorry could be, an’ that he’d come back just to apologize, an’ he figured she’d want to bury her dog, but he was drunk an’ not makin’ all that much sense, an’ Joan was terrified.
