The Junebug and Her Mistress

Chapter 1

         The loose asphalt ground under the tires of Jill's blue Ford Ranger as she navigated the old parking lot beside the newspaper office. The sign on the stuccoed building read “Herald-West” in large black letters, and the cub reporter felt the same swell of pride she always felt when pulling in. She was a part of a legacy in this town, and it was only the beginning of her career in journalism.


         The clock on the truck's radio said 9:30, and she knew she was going to hear about it from Jim. The small knot of anxiety that always seemed to sit in the pit of her stomach grew a few sizes. Great, she thought. I haven't even walked in the door yet and I already feel like she was behind.


         It wasn't that Jim Lattimore was a hard man to work for. On the contrary, she was grateful to have someone so understanding in her first reporting job. He was like a father to her, and she wanted to do everything in her power to make him pround. Her grandmother had worked with him for many years before she retired, and Jill remembered many happy days up at the office, watching the magic of newspapers happen. Jim saw her as an adopted daughter and did everything he could think of to help her succeed.


         But all the encouragement in the world couldn't remedy a general lack of confidence and fear of failure. Everyone told Jill what a wonderful job she did. The coaches, students and teachers loved the sports coverage, while the staff was happy with how quickly she learned the computer programs and how clean her copy was. The praise only added to her uncertainty, like she was a fraud who had fooled everyone for the 13 months she had been on the job. She waited for the other shoe to drop, and when it didn't, it only made her more anxious.


         She went around to the passenger-side door and took out the assorted jumble of accoutrement necessary for her day to work. Shuffling camera, notepad, recorder, lunch, purse and coat, she closed the door with her hip and entered the office in an undignified waddling lump.


         The office was quiet for a press day. Usually by this time, Harry would be making his last-minute phone calls for ad changes, Peter would be typing away at his front-page story and Alice,  Jim's wife and the self-proclaimed mother of the newspaper staff, would be letting her know that breakfast had arrived in the back. Candice wasn't in her office yet, but that wasn't unusual. She usually had everything done long before deadline. Jill admired the young classifieds manager. Candice could have taken advantage of the fact that she was the editor's daughter, but to her, it only meant she had more to prove. Candice was always helping out where she could, whatever the task. She had even helped Jill at a few games and covered a few herself during playoff season.


         Jill kept her eyes down as she entered, trying to not draw attention to herself. She dumped her baggage onto her desk, turned on her computer and checked her messages. Two new, both scores from last night's junior high games. She wrestled some change from her pocket and went back to get a coke. She noted the absence of Alice as she passed her offices and grew concerned. In the back, Jim's office was dark as well. She punched the numbers for a regular Coca-Cola, grabbed the chilly can and walked back up front.


         Harry was at his desk, staring out at the bright fall day. His long legs were splayed out in front of him, his arms folded across his chest. Jill had never seen him look so serious. The ad manager was usually the one cracking jokes on deadline, bringing a smile to everyone's face. But the humor was not there. His eyes, a deep blue, seemed unfocused.


         “Hey Harry, what's with the Lattimores? No one's here.”


         Harry started out of his broodings and seemed to notice the young reporter for the first time. When the question sunk in, his face sagged in sadness.


         “No one told you? I'm sorry Jilly-bean, I shoulda called you. Jim had a massive heart attack early this morning. Candice and Alice are at the hospital with him right now.”


         “Oh God, is he ok?”


         “Nobody knows anything yet,” Harry put his hand on Jill's arm. “but he'll pull through. You know that ornery old cuss will be back here in no time.”


         She couldn't hold back the tears anymore. During her time at the Herald-West, the most important rule she had learned was wait until you make it to the bathroom. Give yourself some privacy, don't let them see you cry. The look of pity on Harry's face as he handed her a tissue only made her more angry at herself. He was dealing with it himself. Why give him another thing to worry about? But her body was in grief auto-pilot, and she sunk down into a chair, taking the tissue and sobbing.


         “He'll be alright. He's tough,” said Harry, putting an arm around her. But as Jill looked up, she knew he wasn't so sure himself.


         Jim was the kind of man you didn't want to make mad, but you felt blessed to have as your friend. Jill was fortunate in the fact that he saw her more like one of his own family. The entire Lattimore family seemed to be that way, making alliances and taking in stray souls wherever they could. When Jill thought of Jim's family, she thought of charity, integrity, brother-love. Now Jim was in trouble, and all the kindness he had spread around the earth during his time here couldn't help him.


         But would he want help in his health, or in something else? Jill thought about his passions, his true loves in life – God, family and the paper, maybe in that order, but probably not. Jim was selfeless and she knew he would have two requests, if he was standing in front of her – get the paper out and comfort my family. To pay him back for his kindness, she could surely do these things for him. Jill blew her nose and found the calm center that kept away the tears.


         “Where is he?”


         Harry sat back down, turning once again to the window. “He's still here, at the West Hillsbrand Hospital. Last I heard, they were stabilizing him. He was still in ICU about an hour ago, so it'll probably be a while before he gets moved to the city.”


         The city hospital. West Hillsbrand itself was a small town, rating only a few restaurants and one tiny hospital to fill the needs of the residents. For real medical problems, patients were moved to Moresville, population about 200,000. The fact that the doctors wanted to move Jim said everything. Jill pitied Harry. Jim was like another father to him. Harry had grown up around the Lattimore house and had been friends with Candice since grade school. He started working at the paper as soon as he was old enough for Jim to allow it. He started out as a photographer, back when prints were developed in dark rooms and the thought of processing photos completely on a computer was unheard of. Jill spent hours as a child watching Harry work, amazed at how the photo paper caught the picture and, like spy-ink, would only show its message if someone knew the correct combination of chemicals.


         “So that's the report,” said Harry, thumbing through his list and reaching for the phone. “The paper still has to go out, so I guess we'd better get to it.”


         Jill knew Harry would prefer to be with the family at the hospital, but respected his boss enough to hold down the fort and make sure the paper made. His resolve strengthened hers, and she got to work.


         The Sunday paper was always a scramble in the sports department. Friday varsity games from the county didn't end until at least 10 p.m., making it necessary for coaches to call in after the games to give line scores for those teams that weren't covered live. The JV and Junior High games from Thursday night came in a flood, some on e-mail, some over the phone, but Jill had built a good rapport with the coaches and knew where and when to expect results.


         Most of the game results were in by mid-morning. Jill looked over each one, noting any follow-up calls that were necessary, and began typing. As she was finishing the Midway Cougar JV volleyball game, Peter came walking up to her.


         “Hey Jill. You hear about Jim?”


         “Yeah.” Jill kept typing, hoping Peter would take the cue and leave. It wasn't that she didn't like the guy, but he had a strange, stream-of-consciousness style of conversing and usually ended up saying something inappropriate, rude or downright mean. She didn't think he meant it, but Harry said he was a product of a lifetime of working at a newspaper. He'd slipped a cog some years back, and never quite recovered. Whatever the case, Jill felt uncomfortable when he decided to talk to her.


         “Well, I guess Candice is going to get this paper sooner than she thought, huh? Maybe change the name to something more sexy?”


         Jill could feel the hopeless grin as Peter tried to make light of the situation. She didn't look up, was afraid of what she might say. “Well, I've got a lot of games to write up, Peter.”


         “Yeah, sure.” The heavy material of Peter's slacks swooshed as he walked away. “Let me know if you need any help with anything.


         Jill finished the last sentence of the story, grabbed her coat and walked outside. The back of the building was reserved for smokers and those who wanted to blow off steam. Usually a member of the former group, at the moment she was a member of the latter.


         The mattress had been there many years, and showed visible signs of abuse, decay and an overall lack of care. Candice had told her it started out as a joke, with Harry bringing it in for Jim one day after the boss had gotten angry at an advertiser. But this joke turned out to be the best un-kept secret in maintaining sanity at the harrowing pace of a small newspaper. Jill picked up the aluminum bat that lay on top of the mattress. Feeling the heft of it in her hands felt good. She kicked the mattress, hard, to make sure no itinerate cats, dogs or vermin had found a home in it. Satisfied nothing was living in there today, she brought the bat down, hard, on top of it. The “thunk” sound was satisfying, and after another half dozen swings, her anger was spent.


         “You always have had a good arm,” said Harry, materializing out of nowhere. Jill dropped the bat, embarrassed. “Here, let me have a few whacks at it. Peter's on a roll today.”


         Jill lit a cigarette and watched Harry get to work. The bat was a blur in his hands as he drove it home over and over again, his face contorted in rage, his voice hoarse as he shouted profanities. Onlookers were gathering from a few of the surrounding businesses. They usually laughed as they watched the spectacle, amused by the unique stress management. Today, all faces were grim. News traveled fast in a small town, and Jill had no doubt that word had gotten around about Jim's condition.


         After a while, Harry dropped the bat and lit a cigarette as well.


         “Bastard doesn't know when to keep his fucking mouth shut,” said Harry, lips drawn together to hold the cigarette.


         “He's just trying to make us laugh.”


         “Don't care. He just better be glad I need him to finish the news today.” Harry's hands were still shaking. She had seen that temper before and was thankful it wasn't toward her. Candice told stories about days gone by when Harry would get in fights. He always won, by the providence of being the meanest. Nothing got him more angry than picking on people who couldn't defend themselves, or picking on his family. With one sentence, Peter had done both.


         Harry's straw-colored hair blew in the light breeze, his thin figure leaning against the telephone pole. He smoked his cigarette slowly, breathing the smoke in like fresh air. Jill slumped against the wall, jealous of his fair features. Her hair had always been black. She remembered wishing it would turn blonde when she was a kid, just so she could look like the popular kids. She didn't feel like her brown eyes were anything special either, though her boyfriend argued they were beautiful. He was always perfect, leaving her wondering why he had ended up with her. She lit another cigarette as she mused.


         “You all right kid? You don't usually smoke two on a break.” Harry's voice brought her back to the present. She stuck the cigarette in her mouth, drawing in the harsh smoke.


         “Yeah, I'm fine. Just cooling down a little more before I go back in.”


         “I get ya,” he said. “Don't worry about Peter. If he says another God damn word to you, I'll take care of it.”


         Jill prayed, for everyone's sake, that he didn't.


         As they went inside, Peter poked his head out of his office.


         “Inhaling carcinogens?”


         “Leave it, Peter.” said Harry as he walked by.


         “I'm sorry, I just.”


         Harry turned, towering over the news editor. He looked like a predator ready to pounce.


         “I said leave it.”


         Peter turned, fumbling through a previous issue. Jill let out a breath, relieved nothing happened.


She gathered up her stuff to get ready to go to the West Hillsbrand schools for game results when she saw Candice pull in.


         “What's she doing here?” asked Jill.


         “Same thing we're all doing,” said Harry. “Getting out a paper and waiting for news.”


         Jill watched through the window, too dumbfounded to try to pretend she wasn't. She could see Candice in the driver's seat of the white Escalade, sunglasses glinting in the diffused sunlight coming through the tinted windshield. Her head was down, shoulders shaking as her long blonde hair slowly slid over her face. Jill felt guilty and tried to make a show of looking through her camera bag, but suspected she was probably failing miserably.


         After a few minutes, Candice emerged from the vehicle and came toward the front door. Although she was considerably shorter than Jill, Candice's 5'4” stature was usually more than enough to seem impressive, confident and in control. Today she just looked like a lost little girl. Her face was ravaged with sorrow and worry. Her fair skin was red and puffy underneath her aquamarine eyes. She shuffled in, not really seeing anyone or anything around her. When she reached her office, she turned back to the ad manager's desk.


         “Harry, I need to talk to you.”


         “I'll let you know what happens when I get out. Sit tight,” mumbled Harry as he passed Jill.


         There was nothing to do but wait. She had to know what was going on, but Jill despaired at the waning minutes when she knew the coaches would be in their offices, the shrinking time until she had to begin laying out the paper and the seconds she was losing at that exact moment while she stood in indecision. Words played in her mind like an old tape recorder, some advice her father gave her, which helped at times like these – when in doubt, do something, even if it's wrong. Just make a decision. She weighed the possibilities in her mind and, after a few milliseconds of deliberation, marched to her desk, dumped her gear onto it once more and picked up the phone.


         “Coach Sanders? Hi, this is Jill. I was needing to get the JV results from last night and I'm stuck up here at the office...yes...no news yet...well thanks for your concern...” The obligatory condolences from the football coach were just space holders in the conversation. Jill didn't hear them any more than a the whining motor of the air conditioner. She scribbled down quarter scores, stats and quotes, hung up and got ready for her next phone call.


         After calls to the junior high and JV volleyball coaches, Jill realized Harry still hadn't come out of the office. She walked past the office toward the bathroom and chanced a quick peek. She wished she hadn't.


         Harry was holding Candice as she cried. They stood in the middle of the cluttered office, among toys her daughter had left and papers to be filed. Harry stared at nothing, his eyes bright with tears he would not allow to fall. Jill could hear the muted sobs as she passed. She waited in the back for a little while, afraid to look like she was snooping. The cool air of the older part of the building refreshed her and allowed her a few minutes to breathe.


         The phone rang, and Jill realized it was the first time it had done so all morning. No one wanted to interfere today, although a little bit of distraction would be welcome.


         “Herald-West,” answered Jill.


         “Jill, it's Alice. Is Candice there?”


         “Yes ma'am.” Alice's sounded tired and sad. Her voice quavered like she had been crying a long time.


         “Could you get her on the phone please? She's not answering her cell, and it's important.”


         Jill felt the sinking in the pit of her stomach as she went to Candice's door. The Lattimores did not like being disturbed, especially when stressed. She got ready to knock, but saw that Candice and Harry were looking at her. Candice motioned her in with a quick flick of her hand, irritated.


         “What?”


         “It's your mom. She's on the phone and needs to talk to you.”


         With a sigh, Candice picked up the phone. Not knowing what to do, Jill left the room and went back to her desk. Candice's voice carried over the Jill, not clear, but definitely distraught. She couldn't make out the words, but the tone indicated something was definitely wrong. Jill could hear the phone slam down in the cradle, and a few minutes later Harry emerged. He seemed in a daze, like someone who did not know whether he was awake or sleeping.


         “Harry?” said Jill. He looked over at her like a stranger, then, seeming to come to his senses, he walked over and sat down next to her.


         “What did you find out?” she asked.


         “Well, it's not too good,” he said, his voice low. “Jim's stabilized, but he's not reacting well to some of the medicine. Alice just told Candice that he's slipped into a coma.”


         “Shit,” said Jill. “What did the doctors say?”


         “Just have to wait and see. Pray, maybe, if you can. They say it's too early to tell if he's going to pull through or not.”


         “And what about Candice? Is she going back up to the hospital.”


         Harry gave a sardonic smile. “No, she knows what the old man wants her to do. She's getting to work, but I wouldn't bother her any more than you absolutely need to.”


         Candice opened the blinds to her office and, seeing Harry and Jill talking, scowled and turned to her work. Her movements were quick, jittery, like someone just learning how to move again.


         “What are we going to do if he doesn't make it?” asked Jill. “Who will run the paper?”


         “Don't borrow worry, kid,” said Harry. “Jim and your grandma built this paper from next to nothing. It ran without her, God rest her soul. I'm sure we'd find a way to make it work without him, but in any case,” Harry patted her on the shoulder as he stood to return to work. “Hope for the best.”