Time Wounds All Heels

As she pulled into an overflow lot on an adjoining street, she said, "I've always loved this place but it grounds me."

Kincade gave her a look as she turned the ignition off.

She stared in the direction of the river even though it couldn't be seen for the intervening buildings.

"I was a senior that year. I was here with a bunch of my friends from the cheerleading squad, guys from the football team and a bunch of some of my other friends, partying. It was a Friday night. Then we heard it, the end of the world."

She sat without moving.

"It sounded like a nuclear blast should have sounded. The building actually shook. I had a Coke in one of those old-fashioned Coke glasses on the counter in front of me and it shimmied. We ran out. You could see it from the road, clear across the river. It was a huge gasoline tanker. Today I don't think they would even allow it to cross the bridge. It actually did damage the foundation of the bridge on that side. The blast was so strong that one of the statues of World War I servicemen standing at the entrance to this side of the bridge suffered some damage."

She had a far away look on her face, as if she were actually back there for a moment.

"There was a strong wind, actually a thunderstorm getting ready to rip through the town, and stuff - debris like confetti, paper and cloth and things – actually swirling in the wind. I was standing there out in the street. Actually I had one foot in the street and one on the sidewalk. All the traffic had stopped. Something was floating in the wind. I thought it was rain, but as it came down toward me I just reached out and grabbed it. It was as light as silk, because it was silk. It was a piece of a silk handkerchief.

"I looked at it and I didn't understand what I was seeing, but I saw the two letters embroidered in silver on the red fabric - EA. I had no idea what those letters meant then, or who the handkerchief belonged to. We found out the next week. They belonged to a woman named Elise Abbott. She was married to a reporter at the paper here, Clint Abbott. She'd been running around on him with one of the coaches at the high school. She was out with her boyfriend when they blew themselves up by smashing into that gas tanker. Of course, we didn't know about that then. It came out little by little. People gossiped about it, but nobody wanted to talk much about it because of her husband."

She pulled the key out of the ignition and opened the door as the wheelchair swung into position.

"I kept the handkerchief. They found some documents down the river that proved the woman in the truck with the guy was Abbott's wife but it bothered me. One day I drove down there and he was in the office - The Palatka Daily News. I asked to speak to him and he came to see me. He asked me what I wanted and I told him I'd been in Angel's the night of the blast. I told him about the piece of handkerchief floating down from the sky and gave it to him.

"He cried."

She slid out of the driver's seat into the chair which lowered itself while Kincade came around.

"That's what I think about on the days when I get to feeling too sorry for myself. I think about that stupid woman, and the husband she left behind. She'll never see another sunrise. I will. Like I said, it keeps me centered on what's important."

He followed her around to the back of the dining car where he saw a ramp had been installed. Of course, even in Palatka the Americans With Disabilities Act had had an impact. More than a few people said hello or touched her on the shoulder as she passed.

When they entered the diner, there was an opening at one end of the counter where the cooks and waitresses slipped in and out. A party of four teens sat at the table nearest the door where they entered. There was no way the chair was ever going to make it through the narrow lane between the counter and the tables to any of the other tables, all of which were packed.

A glance from the bald headed man handling a spatula on the grill to the teens led them to hastily get up and move down to find whatever spots were available further down the car. Jessie wheeled her chair sideways so she could sit at the table.

"What would you like? My treat?"

"What else is there?" she asked and then told the young waitress, "A Diner Special With Everything, Greasy Fries, and a Cherry Coke."

"The same," Kincade said when the waitress glanced his way.

The Diner Special, when it came, was a fat, double-handful of a hamburger on a buttered bun, a thick slab of onion, tomato and lettuce. Nothing special, but when he sank his teeth into it, he couldn't believe how good it was. He had forgotten how good they were.

She just looked at him as he swallowed a huge mouthful of fried hamburger and dressings and said, "Don't try to figure it out. It's magic."

There wasn't much talking for ten minutes. Finally they had both finished. She popped a last, incredibly salty, crispy and greasy French fry into her mouth and said, "I feel much more human now. You were right, Kincade. Thank you. I'm glad you bullied me into coming out with you.

"Just call me the Good Bully."

She leaned back in the chair and said, "Alright, let's take care of business."

Forty five minutes later they had each ordered a third coke and were sipping.

He thumbed the micro recorder off and said, "That's all I've got. Thank you for being so forthcoming."

"You're welcome. You ready to go?"

"Am I that hard to talk to?"

"You said this was business."

"That was business. Nothing says we can't talk for awhile."

She looked up at the huge, glass-faced clock high behind the counter. It showed 10:30 p.m.

"It's the witching hour. I turn into a very ugly witch when the clock strikes midnight."

"Alright. I'll get the bill and-"

"You can't take a joke, can you? We have some time."

She took a deep breath that pushed out enticingly against the blue blouse she wore. She was healthy.

"What would you like to know, Mr. Kincade?"

"Why did you shoot your second husband?"

"Oh, you heard that story?"

"Yeah. Kinda grabs your attention. Are you still packing heat right now?"

"In my purse where I can get at it. Like I said, I have a concealed-carry permit."

"What's the story, if you don't mind talking about it?"

"It's easier to tell you the whole story. Do you mind spending a few extra minutes here?"

"Nothing but time."

"All this talking has made me hungry. I'll have to diet all next week, but could you get me a cup of coffee – their coffee is the best in the state, too – and a slice of cherry pie?"

He smiled - "You're milking this for all it's worth, aren't you?"

"I don't get that many opportunities, to tell you the truth, and I'm enjoying this night a lot more than I ever imagined I would this afternoon."

He ordered the extras.

"I met my husband in high school. It was a typical high school sweetheart love story. I was the head cheerleader. Great boobs – they told me – great legs and I was flexible as hell. No wonder Johnny – that was his name, Johnny Miller, was crazy about me. He was, you might guess, the quarterback of the Palatka Panthers the year we went to the state finals. He dreamed about going pro, but we both knew he'd wind up working at the paper mill and I'd get pregnant and have a boy and a girl and be a homemaker."

She forked a piece of cherry pie into her mouth and did things that were almost illegal with it. Kincade had to reposition himself and he caught the little smirk she gave him.

"I am SO going to have to starve myself next week, but it will be worth it."

"He did get on at the mill and was making good money pretty soon. I got pregnant, but slipped and fell in the grocery store. It was just a slip and fall, but I lost her. We couldn't sue. His uncle was the manager and would have lost his job. It was nobody's fault anyway. So we kept trying, but it didn't happen.

"Johnny was a great guy, but he'd started drinking when he was 14 and it just got worse and worse as he got older. He never touched me when he was drinking. He wasn't a mean drunk and he always managed to get to work, but there were weekends he just never managed to get out of bed, or off the floor, wherever he landed. Then there was that party on Friday night where they were going to announce his promotion and he'd started drinking that morning. On the way to the Civic Center in the Azalea Gardens, he veered over the center line and did a head-on into a Budweiser delivery truck. It was like the ultimate bad joke."

Kincade found himself reaching out to hold one hand.

"I'm sorry."

"It was a lifetime ago. There are times I have to look at our wedding picture to remind myself exactly what he looked like."

She shook her head and said, "Anyway, lost track of my story. After Johnny died, like I told you earlier, I met Martha and eventually I decided I wanted to go on living and I started doing a little bit of volunteering. About two years or so after Johnny passed, I remembered that I was a woman. That's a nice way of saying I got horny as hell."

One of the teens sitting next to her giggled loudly and poked her boyfriend in the ribs.

Jessie half turned.

"Please, like you're not going to give Donnie a blow job as soon as you get out of here? Get real, and pay attention to your own conversation."

Turning back to Kincade, she said, "So like I said, I got very horny. And some guys still acted like I was a decent looking woman. I let a few friends set me up on a few dates. I'm not going to tell you it wasn't weird at first. I didn't know what to expect, or how to act. Somehow I felt like I was cheating the guy because he was only getting half the package. There were a few times I did things I regretted, just trying to make up for being in the chair.

"Then, a friend introduced me to Lance. That was his name, really. Lance, and he was like a breath of fresh air. He kissed my hand when he was introduced to me and brought me flowers on every date. He'd call me sometimes in the evening when we didn't have a date because he said he just liked the sound of my voice. It was pretty overwhelming.

"There was one time we went to a night spot – really just a bar with a dance floor - and we were sitting near it when some guy made a crack about my wasting space a woman with two good legs could use. Lance beat him until I thought he was going to kill him. He knocked two guys out trying to stop him. Lance was a big guy. Six foot five. He dragged the guy to my table by his hair and told him if he ever said anything remotely insulting to or about me, he'd knock the guy's teeth out and make him eat them."

The conversation around the table had stopped.

"I know, I know, I should have suspected something but I had felt like a piece of trash for so long, a freak, that having a man feel that way about me made me feel good, feel safe, feel wanted."

Kincade nodded.

"Yeah, I do understand."

"So, you know what happened next. I found out that a guy who doesn't mind beating up men, doesn't mind beating up women, but that was after I married him. We'd dated for four months and he told me he'd cherish me and take care of me for the rest of my life. That lasted for about three months.

"The first time he hit me was when he thought I'd bent over and showed too much of my breast to a guy I'd dated once, when we had gone grocery shopping. I met him in one of the aisles and I'd dropped a box of cereal and he bent down to pick it up for me. Lance waited until we got home. He didn't even raise his voice. He just walked in behind me, called my name and, when I turned to see what he wanted, he hit me with the side of his hand and knocked me out of the chair. He split the skin under my right eye. He wasn't even going to take me to the doctor but I told him that if I didn't go, I'd get a bad scar and everybody would be asking what happened.

"I called Martha at the hospital and she came and got me. A deputy was there and Lance couldn't do anything. Later that night he drove out to Martha's house. Riley was still alive and he walked out carrying a loaded shotgun and told Lance that if he wasn't gone in 30 seconds, he wouldn't be alive to regret his stupidity. Lance left, but he kept calling me and apologizing for being crazy jealous. After awhile, he wore me down. I didn't want to be alone again. I went back with him, but Martha made me buy a .38 special and get a carry permit before I went back to him.

"The first night I went back to him, he walked in ahead of me and, as he was telling me he loved me, he hit me in the face with his fist. I must have blacked out for a moment. When I came to he was pulling me across the floor by my hair, telling me I'd shamed and humiliated him and he was going to beat that defiance out of me, teach me to be a good wife."

She stared into space and Kincade thought that in some way she must be back there again.

"I was never so afraid in my life. I cried, I pleaded, I told him I was sorry and I'd never do that again. He hit me again. Then he kicked me in the stomach, and laughed. The son of a bitch laughed. I was on the floor and my purse was by my right hand. He was watching me when I pulled the .38 out. I don't think he really thought I'd use it. The first bullet hit him in the upper right leg, in the thigh. The second one hit him in the left arm. I was going for his heart."

She sipped her coffee.

"He ran - that's the only thing that saved his life. I was going to kill him. I did shoot at him as he ran, but I missed. The son of a bitch had the nerve to try to have me arrested for assaulting him, but I had the doctor's report and the pictures - also the fact that too many people knew what kind of asshole he really was. The State's Attorney gave him the option of dropping the charges and getting out of Florida for good, or going away to Raiford for 20 years to life for assault and intent to commit murder. He decided to leave. It was a good thing for him, because I would have killed him if I'd seen him in the next few months."

"I believe you would have," Kincade said finally. There was still silence surrounding them.

"I would have. So that's my story. I married an alcoholic, and then I married a wife abuser."

"You've had more than your share of poor luck with men."

"You haven't heard the half of it."

She turned back to the table of teens and said, "You might as well start listening in to somebody else's conversation because we're out of here."

When they were back in the van she pulled out onto Reid Street and headed toward the river.

"The parking lot is a popular make-out spot for teens nowadays, but it is pretty. If you'd like to talk a little longer - nothing else!"

"Sure."

There were plenty of cars, but there were a few empty spots close to the river bulkhead. They pulled into one and she turned off the motor. The heavy swollen moon hung seemingly just over the black bulk of the St. Johns River.

"Hubie told me you'd been married four times. It seemed hard to believe. What happened after Lance?"

"I was pretty gun-shy but, you don't stop...being a woman. You don't stop having urges. I mean, you can help yourself out, but it's not the same as being with a man. Do I shock you?"

"I've been married and divorced - slept with a few women. I know you guys get horny too."

"Long story short, I was gun-shy, no pun intended but, little by little, I started dating again. In a couple of years I met Troy. He seemed like a nice, normal guy. He took me to eat, and we went on a few trips - Disney World, Six Flags - did 'couple' things. He didn't have a temper and he never touched me, unless I wanted him to. After awhile I really wanted him to."

She had rolled the windows down and the night air was cool, smelling of the river. He could hear a fish leaping up and plopping down somewhere, a woman's rhythmic moans - the sounds of the night.

"He wanted me, REALLY wanted me. I know this sounds...but he wanted me two, three times a night if I'd let him and we had the opportunity. I have to admit, after years of being by myself, it felt good to be some man's fantasy. So, I - did it again."

She stared out at the night.

"You'd think eventually I'd learn. It was okay for awhile. Like the old joke, too much sex is a GOOD thing. However, I should have been suspicious when he wanted to role play about being a burglar who comes in on a poor crippled lady in her bedroom and has his way with her. I didn't mind - it was a fantasy and it was pretty hot. Unfortunately, he got more and more kinky."

She suddenly turned to face him and put her hands on the ignition key.

"This is probably going too far, Kincade. I know we've been - I kind of feel there's some...undercurrent between us, unless it's just my fevered imagination. But I'm telling you stuff - my God, I'm telling a strange guy things I wouldn't tell my friends. Somehow you found the key and you're unlocking secrets I don't want you to know, even if we never do anything."

He sat back in the seat and the moonlight gleamed off his eyes. She thought there was almost something - supernatural - about his eyes in the darkness, but then she caught herself. It was moonlight and she was letting her imagination run away from her.

"I told you, Jessie, I'm a reporter. My business is getting people to trust me and to talk, to spill their guts. It's just that I'm good at it and you've had a long, hard upsetting day. I took you out, fed you, got you to laugh and made you feel like a woman. There's nothing hard to understand about it."

He laid his palm over hers on the steering wheel and she thought she could feel his pulse in his touch.

"I'm enjoying myself. This isn't a real date but I'm having fun. I wouldn't be here this late if it was on the paper's time or if I didn't enjoy your company. What we're talking about now is not between the Wheel Chair Lady and the Times-Union. It's between Jessie Miller and Robert Kincade. We can go back to your place and I'll get my car, head to Jax, or we can sit out here and talk a little longer. I'd like to know more about you, but you don't have to say another word."

They sat in silence for a little while.

"He got to where the fantasies were the only thing he was interested in, and they always involved me being tied up with ropes or scarves. Then he started with light spanking and whipping. Nothing terrible - I know there are people that like that, but not ALL the time.

"Then, one night, he got me pretty loaded and tied me down. I had the feeling there was something strange, until I realized there were two men making love to me. I would have screamed, but I was so drunk, and....he had worked me pretty worked up. I'd never....done anything like that before. After awhile it didn't seem so bad, until I woke up the next morning and both of them were still in bed with me. I must have gone crazy. I was slapping at them and scratching and, if I could have reached my purse, I would have done something bad. But there were two of them and I couldn't overpower them and they, had me again. After awhile, I realized it would be easier just to let them do it and get it over with. Honestly, there was a part of me that enjoyed it. I hated that but it's the truth. When they were finished, they finally left.

"I didn't see the guy again, but Troy came back in with breakfast. He talked to me. Said this was a fantasy he'd had for a long time and he thought I would enjoy it if I didn't have any control - if he just did it to me. He said this was something he thought would make us both happy."

She looked up at Kincade again.

"At this point I tell you I called the cops, had him arrested for rape and tossed him out. I didn't. It didn't feel like rape, although it really was, although he said he had done it for both of us. I told him I would never do that again and I wouldn't let him touch me again for a long time. It was a few weeks - the next time he didn't have to get me drunk and...it was the same way. It did something for me, something I'd never felt before. So I let him keep doing it, usually with the same guy, but sometimes he brought in another friend."