away with a not-guilty verdict.”
“There must have been a jury.”
“People around here don’t like the gays. There’s no one here talking about marriage equality.” Grady put the words in quotation marks. “But Marydale Rae…” His gazed passed Kristen toward the door. “My grandfather was a sharecropper in Iowa. Corn mostly. Before they had all these insecticides. He said sometimes there’d be a plague of locusts, and they’d eat up everything. And there’d often be one farm or one valley where the wind would blow or the rain would fall just right, and the bugs wouldn’t touch it. They’d just pass right over. Marydale was like that…for a while.
“Everyone knew she was a queer. She didn’t hide it. I mean she did, but you can’t hide anything from anyone, especially when there wasn’t a girl in town who hadn’t at least thought about kissing Marydale Rae. But she got brash about it after her father died. She was running that ranch, ran it as good as any man could’ve. She was born to that land, and she was a good Christian. She’d help anyone in a second, took care of her mother till she passed.
“Mrs. Rae died in her arms. Preacher found them there together, Marydale just sitting up against that headboard with her mother in her arms. And they asked why she hadn’t called anyone, and Marydale just said, there wasn’t any hurry, ‘’cause God had already come and taken care of everything that mattered.’ People just couldn’t hate her for being gay.”
“What about Aaron Holten?” Kristen asked.
“The thing about those locusts…you didn’t want to be the farm they left alone, the only one to make it.” He shook his head slowly. “First they’d say God spared you; then, just as quick, they’d say you’d made a pact with the devil. I’ve seen the Holten women in court, swearing up and down they ran into a wall. It runs in families. There’s a lot of mothers in this town who’ve seen their girls go off with a Holten boy and cried over it.
“When Marydale killed him, I think…some people hated her because she did it, and some people hated her because they hadn’t done it themselves. Some of them just hated her because they owed the Holtens so much money; they couldn’t not.”
“Didn’t she appeal?” Kristen felt the sweat beneath her arms and between her legs.
“Don’t know why not,” Grady said. “She was too shook up, I guess. I heard about it too late. But that’s why I came back, so no one ever had to take a shit-shoveling public defender again, because I can tell you one thing: if I’d been her lawyer, she’d be free.”
The next days passed in slow procession. Kristen thought about Marydale constantly, but she entered the Almost Home from the back so she wouldn’t risk seeing her coming out of the Ro-Day-O Diner.
Donna called one evening while Kristen lay on her motel bed, letting the blue glare of the television wash over her and drinking Poisonwood from a plastic cup.
Two of the new hires at the Falcon Law Group had been let go. A third was on her way out.
“You’re going to hate me,” Donna said, “but I gave Mr. Falcon your name. I know you don’t want to do big firm, but I’m lead on this energy-drink patent case.”
“And somebody needs to take over the Lubbock divorce,” Kristen finished.
She took another sip of the whiskey. Neither the taste nor the alcohol seemed to affect her, or perhaps there was already something numbingly intoxicating about the monotony of the motel, the television commercials, and her thoughts.
“It’d just be for a little while. I told them I’d help find a replacement for the family-law side. It’s a big part of our business.”
Our business. Donna had edged ahead in whatever race they were running to whatever golden future they’d respectively imagined on the other side of attorney general or Falcon law partner.
“Our clients need to know they can come to the Falcon Law Group for anything, big
“There must have been a jury.”
“People around here don’t like the gays. There’s no one here talking about marriage equality.” Grady put the words in quotation marks. “But Marydale Rae…” His gazed passed Kristen toward the door. “My grandfather was a sharecropper in Iowa. Corn mostly. Before they had all these insecticides. He said sometimes there’d be a plague of locusts, and they’d eat up everything. And there’d often be one farm or one valley where the wind would blow or the rain would fall just right, and the bugs wouldn’t touch it. They’d just pass right over. Marydale was like that…for a while.
“Everyone knew she was a queer. She didn’t hide it. I mean she did, but you can’t hide anything from anyone, especially when there wasn’t a girl in town who hadn’t at least thought about kissing Marydale Rae. But she got brash about it after her father died. She was running that ranch, ran it as good as any man could’ve. She was born to that land, and she was a good Christian. She’d help anyone in a second, took care of her mother till she passed.
“Mrs. Rae died in her arms. Preacher found them there together, Marydale just sitting up against that headboard with her mother in her arms. And they asked why she hadn’t called anyone, and Marydale just said, there wasn’t any hurry, ‘’cause God had already come and taken care of everything that mattered.’ People just couldn’t hate her for being gay.”
“What about Aaron Holten?” Kristen asked.
“The thing about those locusts…you didn’t want to be the farm they left alone, the only one to make it.” He shook his head slowly. “First they’d say God spared you; then, just as quick, they’d say you’d made a pact with the devil. I’ve seen the Holten women in court, swearing up and down they ran into a wall. It runs in families. There’s a lot of mothers in this town who’ve seen their girls go off with a Holten boy and cried over it.
“When Marydale killed him, I think…some people hated her because she did it, and some people hated her because they hadn’t done it themselves. Some of them just hated her because they owed the Holtens so much money; they couldn’t not.”
“Didn’t she appeal?” Kristen felt the sweat beneath her arms and between her legs.
“Don’t know why not,” Grady said. “She was too shook up, I guess. I heard about it too late. But that’s why I came back, so no one ever had to take a shit-shoveling public defender again, because I can tell you one thing: if I’d been her lawyer, she’d be free.”
The next days passed in slow procession. Kristen thought about Marydale constantly, but she entered the Almost Home from the back so she wouldn’t risk seeing her coming out of the Ro-Day-O Diner.
Donna called one evening while Kristen lay on her motel bed, letting the blue glare of the television wash over her and drinking Poisonwood from a plastic cup.
Two of the new hires at the Falcon Law Group had been let go. A third was on her way out.
“You’re going to hate me,” Donna said, “but I gave Mr. Falcon your name. I know you don’t want to do big firm, but I’m lead on this energy-drink patent case.”
“And somebody needs to take over the Lubbock divorce,” Kristen finished.
She took another sip of the whiskey. Neither the taste nor the alcohol seemed to affect her, or perhaps there was already something numbingly intoxicating about the monotony of the motel, the television commercials, and her thoughts.
“It’d just be for a little while. I told them I’d help find a replacement for the family-law side. It’s a big part of our business.”
Our business. Donna had edged ahead in whatever race they were running to whatever golden future they’d respectively imagined on the other side of attorney general or Falcon law partner.
“Our clients need to know they can come to the Falcon Law Group for anything, big
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