When he was finally able, he directed his words toward Charlie, his most receptive audience. “After you dropped me at ye olde homestead, I had a bite to eat, maybe a little to drink, and then I realized that I hadn’t checked the mail.”
Sam could not think of the last time she had received mail at her home. It seemed like a ritual from another century.
Rusty continued, “I put on my walkin’ shoes and headed out. Beautiful night, last night. Partly cloudy, chance of rain this morning. Oh—” he seemed to remember that morning had passed. “Did it rain?”
“Yes.” Charlie made a rolling motion with her hand, indicating he should speed up the story. “Did you see who did it?”
Rusty coughed again. “That is a complicated question with an equally complicated answer.”
Charlie waited. They both waited.
Rusty said, “All right, so, I walked to the mailbox to check my mail. Beautiful night. Moon high up in the sky. The driveway was giving off warmth saved up from the sun. Paints a picture, don’t it?”
Sam felt herself nodding along with Charlie, as if thirty years had not passed and they were both little girls listening to one of their father’s stories.
He seemed to relish the attention. Some color came back into his cheeks. “I came around the bend, and I heard something up above me, so I was looking up for that bird. Remember I told you about the hawk, Charlotte?”
Charlie nodded.
“Thought the old fella got himself a chipmunk again, but then—Shazam!” He clapped together his hands. “I feel this hot pain in my leg.”
Sam felt her cheeks redden. Like Charlie, she had jumped at the clap.
Rusty said, “I look down, and I have to twist around to see what’s wrong, and that’s when I spot it. There’s a big ol’ hunting knife sticking out of the back of my thigh.”
Sam put her hand to her mouth.
Rusty said, “So there’s me hitting the ground like a rock dropping into the water, because it hurts to have a knife stuck in the back of your thigh. And then I see this fella comes up, and he starts kicking me. Just kicking me and kicking me—in the arm, the ribs, the head. And mail is everywhere, but the point is, I’m trying to stand up, and I still got this knife in the back of my thigh. So the fella, he makes this one last kick at my head and I grab onto his leg with both arms and punch him in the hokey-pokey.”
Sam felt her heart pounding in her throat. She knew what it was like to fight for your life.
“Then we struggle a little bit more, him hopping around ’cause I’ve got his leg, me trying to stay upright, and the fella seems to remember that knife’s in my leg. So he grabs it, just yanks it out, and starts stabbing me in my belly.” Rusty made a stabbing, twisting motion with his hand. “We’re both tired out after this. Plumb tuckered. I’m limping away from him, holding in my own guts. He’s standing there. I’m wondering can I make it back to the house, call the police, and then I see him pull out a gun.”
“A gun?” Sam asked. Had he been shot, too?
“A pistol,” Rusty confirmed. “One of those foreign models.”
“For fucksakes, Dad,” Charlie muttered. “Then did you drop a shipping container on his head?”
“Well—”
“That’s how Lethal Weapon 2 ends. You told me you watched it the other night.”
“Did I?” Rusty seemed blameless, which meant there was much to blame.
And that Sam was an idiot.
“You asshole.” Charlie stuck her hand on her hip. “What really happened?”
Sam felt her mouth start to move, but she could not speak.
Rusty said, “I was stabbed. It was dark. I didn’t see him.” He shrugged. “Forgive a man for trying to exploit the meager attentions of his two demanding daughters.”
“That was all a lie?” Sam seized her purse between her hands. “All of it, pulled from a stupid movie?” Before she knew what she was doing, Sam swung the bag at her father’s head. “You asshole,” she hissed, echoing Charlie’s words. “Why would you do that?”
Rusty laughed even as he held up his hands to block the blow.
“Asshole,” she repeated, hitting him again.
Rusty flinched. His hand went to his stomach. “Don’t make sense: you raise your arms and your belly hurts.”
Sam said, “They cut through your abdominal muscles, you lying imbecile. It’s called your core because it is the central, innermost foundation of your body’s musculature.”
“My God,” he said. “It’s like hearing Gamma.”
Sam dropped her purse onto the floor before she hit him again. Her hands were shaking. She felt besieged by acrimony and acerbity and indignation and all of the other tumultuous feelings that had kept her away from her family for so long. “Good Christ in heaven,” she practically screamed. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Rusty listed on his fingers, “I was stabbed several times. I have a heart condition. I have a filthy mouth that I apparently passed onto my daughters. I guess the smoking and the drinking are two separate things, but—”
“Shut up,” Charlie interrupted, her anger seemingly reignited by Sam’s outburst. “Do you realize the kind of night we’ve all had? I slept in a God damn chair. Lenore was about ready to pull out her hair. Ben is—well, Ben will tell you he’s fine, but he’s not, Dad. He was really upset, and he had to tell me that you were hurt, and you know how shitty that was, and then he had to email Sam, and sure as fuck Sam doesn’t want to be here ever, as in never.” She finally stopped for breath. Tears filled her eyes. “We thought that you were going to die, you selfish old shit.”
Rusty remained unmoved. “Death snickers at us all, my dear. The eternal footman will not hold my coat forever.”
“Don’t fucking Prufrock me.” Charlie wiped her eyes with her fingers. She turned to Sam. “I can probably go online and try to change your flight to an earlier one.” She told Rusty, “You’re going to be in the hospital for at least another week. I’ll have Lenore notify your clients. I can get continuances on—”
“No.” Rusty sat up, his humor quickly retreating. “I need you to handle Kelly Wilson’s arraignment tomorrow.”
“What the—” Charlie threw her hands into the air, clearly exasperated. “Rusty, we’ve been over this. I can’t be—”
“He means me,” Sam said, because Rusty had not stopped looking at her since he had made the request. “He wants me to handle the arraignment.”
A flash of jealousy lit up Charlie’s eyes, though she had refused the task.
Rusty shrugged at Sam. “Tomorrow at nine. Easy peasy. In and out, maybe ten minutes.”
“She’s not licensed with the state bar,” Charlie pointed out. “She can’t—”
“She’s licensed.” Rusty winked at Sam. “Tell her I’m right.”
Sam didn’t ask her father how he knew she had passed the Georgia bar exam. Instead, she looked at her watch. “My flight is already booked for later today.”
“Plans can be altered.”
“Delta will charge a change fee and—”
“I can float you a loan to cover it.”
Sam brushed some imaginary lint off the sleeve of her six-hundred-dollar blouse.