53 years ago

October 1962

Curtis Walker

“Curtis! Joseph! One of you boys answer the damn door!”

I frowned, my mother’s intoxicated shriek grating on my nerves as I moved through the big, empty house, heading for the damn door. The Patsy Cline record she’d been playing nonstop skipped momentarily, then, unfortunately, found its groove again.

Although there were ten of us who lived there—well, technically eight now—for some reason, the place felt hollow these days. Aside from the depressing music drifting throughout, plus the numerous liquor bottles that had become decoration as of late, there was a void that had taken up residence.

Could’ve been because my father had died, or because my older brother, Gerald, was a year into his Army career, stationed elsewhere. Or perhaps it was my mother’s recently acquired drinking problem that was causing everyone to stay out of sight. Regardless, ever since Frank Walker Sr. had suffered a massive heart attack and went and died on us just a couple of weeks back, my mother had been on a downward spiral, becoming more and more irritable with every passing day. To the point I didn’t want to be here, but I didn’t have anywhere to go today, so here I was.

I had no clue where my brothers and sisters were, and I didn’t much care. Still, I didn’t understand why the hell Carol couldn’t answer the damn door. She was the housekeeper. Wasn’t that what we paid her to do? Or was Carol taking care of the little ones, keeping them a safe distance from Mary Elizabeth and the bottle of hooch she’d commandeered from God knew where?

“I’m comin’,” I announced to the door when more knocks sounded.

Figuring it was another person bringing some foil-covered crap for us to eat now that my old man had kicked the bucket, I steeled myself for an uncomfortable conversation. Not that I didn’t miss the old bastard, but truth was, with Frank gone, life wasn’t quite as bad as it had been. Even the little ones seemed less stressed.

A bottle crashed in the other room, jarring me momentarily. For a fraction of a second, I considered going to check on my mother, but thought better of it. She’d been drinking for the better part of the day, which meant she was close to passing out if we would leave her be.

Another knock had me gritting my teeth.

With a little more force than necessary, I grabbed the doorknob, twisted, and then jerked it open, coming face to face with … air.

I glanced down and frowned, confused.

There, standing on my front porch, was the last person in the world I’d expected to see. Since most of the townsfolk had already been by—some more than once—I figured the visitors would’ve stopped by now. But I suspected this blond-haired, blue-eyed girl wasn’t here to bring us food. It wasn’t a secret that her old man despised the Walkers. Still, I said, “If you’ve got a casserole, you can take it on back home. We don’t need no more food.”

Lorrie Jameson stared back at me as though I were speaking a foreign language.

I eyed her suspiciously, noticing her hands were empty. “You didn’t bring food?”

She shook her head.

“Then what d’ya want?” I grumbled to the girl now glaring back at me as though I’d kicked her dog.

She still didn’t answer.

“Come on, girl. You came to my house. What d’ya want?”

“I don’t like you,” she said haughtily, hands on her narrow hips as she pinned me in place. “I don’t know why I even bothered.”

That made me smile as I gave her a good once-over, starting at her poufy, golden-blond hair that sat atop her shoulders, and then slowly letting my gaze travel the length of her body. She was… She wasn’t the typical girl who caught my eye, but I liked what I saw. She was on the short side and not as filled out as I would’ve preferred. A tad bit too skinny, too. But as I let my gaze roam up toward her face once more, I paused to admire her great boobs. A little small but nice. I fleetingly wondered what she would look like in a bathing suit, instead of that boring yellow dress that hid most of her and hung past her knees. Yep. I definitely wanted to know what she’d look like in a bathing suit. One of those two-piece numbers.

“Quit lookin’ at me like that,” she hissed, her soft voice laced with venom, eyes glittering with what I could only assume was frustration. Or perhaps hatred.

Nonetheless, she was feisty. I liked that.

I let my eyes travel up to meet hers, and she wrinkled her nose up at me. A laugh rumbled up from my gut, spilling out of my mouth as I stepped outside before my mother could get all nosy and ask who it was.

“How’m I lookin’ at you?” I asked, stepping right up to her, my much bigger body forcing her backward. Last time I’d been to the doctor, they told me I would be taller than my old man. That was two years ago, and I’d succeeded last year after I turned sixteen, already six foot five. She had to have been a full ruler shorter than me. Maybe more.

Lorrie didn’t answer, but the irritation remained in her eyes, intriguing me.

“Why’re you here?” I asked, reverting to my original question as I moved over to the railing that surrounded my parents’ ranch house. Well, it was now my mother’s, I guess.

As she watched me, I pulled out a pack of cigarettes and tapped one out, then put it between my lips.

“Because my daddy told me to come over here.”

“To do what?” The cigarette bobbed when I asked.

Lorrie shrugged, watching as I pulled a lighter out of my pocket.

The way her little nose flared amused me. She didn’t look at all happy to be here. Or maybe she didn’t like the fact that I smoked.

“So your old man forced you to come over here?” I lit my cigarette and inhaled.

“Yep.”

“To see one of my sisters?”

“Nope.”

“My mom?” I exhaled slowly.

“Uh-uh.”

“My brother?” I knew she couldn’t possibly want to see Gerald, because he was off in the Army. And I doubted she wanted to see Frank Jr. or Lisa, or Maryanne because they were still little brats. But everyone knew my brother Joseph had a mad crush on Lorrie. They were almost the same age.

“Wrong again.”

“Then who? Me?” Surely not.

“Mm-hmm.”

That didn’t make any damn sense. “Well, what the hell for?”

“Didn’t you hear me the first time? I. Don’t. Know.”

Although we went to the same school—Granite Creek, with a population of 470, had only one school—I hadn’t ever talked to Lorrie before. She was several grades behind me. I’d sometimes had words with her older brother, Mitch, but never with anyone else in her family. And because our town was so small, I knew them all. I knew that Lorrie had two brothers and five sisters, the youngest only a few months old. I knew that her old man was a ranch hand at one of the places outside of town because he was too good to work for the Walkers, or so my father used to say. And I knew the old bastard had a heavy hand with his kids and that her momma was too timid and quiet, and she got knocked around quite a bit, too. Well, the last part was a rumor, but some of her bruises had been talked about before.

“How old are you?” I questioned curiously when it was clear she wasn’t going to enlighten me.

“Why do you wanna know?” she snapped.

“It’s a safe question, don’t ya think? It ain’t like I asked what color your panties are.”

Lorrie’s cheeks went from pink to red in a heartbeat, and it was in that moment that I realized how pretty she was.

Huh. Strange that I’d never noticed. Maybe not as pretty as Helen Jenkins, but she was definitely a close second. Then again, I didn’t much like Helen because that girl wouldn’t leave me alone.

“How old are you?” she countered, ignoring my question altogether.

“Sixteen,” I said proudly. “But I’ll be seventeen in a coupla weeks.”

“Well, I just turned fourteen.”

“Fourteen, huh?” If I hadn’t already suspected she was the same age as Joseph, I never would’ve guessed. Lorrie Jameson definitely didn’t look fourteen. I grinned to myself, leaning against the railing, bracing myself with one hand while bringing my cigarette to my mouth with the other. “You’re just a baby,” I goaded before taking a drag.

“Quit teasin’ me, Curtis Walker.”

“If you don’t want me teasin’ you, why the hell’d you come over here?”

“Don’t you swear at me!” Lorrie exclaimed. “And I told you. My daddy told me to.”

“I heard you the first time,” I bit out. “But that don’t make no sense. What for?”

Lorrie shrugged, but I got the impression she didn’t want to tell me the truth.

Or maybe, just maybe, she really didn’t know.