Do Unto Others

The young miss Harcher wasn’t what I expected. Although I hadn’t given it much thought, when I’d heard Beta had a niece it wasn’t hard to imagine some tight-lipped, proper young clone of Beta. Apparently self-righteousness and primness aren’t in the genetic code. The girl was around five feet eight, with shoulder-length reddish brown hair and a finely featured face. Her eyes were blue as a jay, and they darted around with the same cunning and speed. Her figure was firm and shapely under the black T-shirt and faded, acid-washed jeans she wore.

She also wore large, funky turquoise earrings and black cowboy boots.

I guessed she was young, around twenty-three. Mark had come in from the backyard. As Sister and I came down the stairs, the girl laughed at something he said, a high, musical bell of a giggle. He blushed madly and kept gawking at her. I obviously needed to have a talk with that boy when all this calmed down. Had Sister explained the facts of life to him? Lord, all my responsibilities. I kept those facts of life firmly out of my head as I introduced myself. I’m not sure she did.

“Well, Mr. Poteet, you sure don’t look like any librarian I ever met.

I’m Shannon Harcher.” Her hand was cool and firm in my grasp. “Please, sit down,” I indicated the sofa. She did, neatly, and I sat next to her. I glanced at Sister, asking with my eyes for some privacy. Sister made herself comfortable in the easy chair. Mark leaned against the wall, trying to look older and nonchalant. It didn’t work. “My sympathies on your aunt’s death,” I said, not knowing what else to say. To my surprise, a hint of a smile tugged at her mouth. “You’re very kind, Mr. Poteet. But I know you and Aunt Beta weren’t exactly friends. She gave me updates over the phone about her book-banning efforts.” I opened my hands, then closed them back together. No use in denying that little fact. “No, we weren’t friends. I-” She raised a well-manicured hand to interrupt me. “Look, Mr. Poteet, there’s no need to explain. I know what kind of person my aunt was.” Shannon Harcher shrugged. “You don’t have to pretend with me that you liked her. I won’t hold you to all those small-town niceties.” “Okay, Miss Harcher-” “Shannon.” “Then call me Jordy. Okay, Shannon, your aunt and I weren’t friends.” I paused. “You’ve probably already heard that from the D.A.’s office and the chief of police.” Her lovely eyes narrowed.

“I haven’t talked with the D.A.’s office. The chief told me you’d found the body.” So Junebug hadn’t told this girl I was a suspect.

Maybe he didn’t consider me one anymore. I felt relief that she hadn’t talked with Billy Ray Bummel. She wouldn’t have come around me if he’d been allowed to paint my picture. “I did find the body.” I told her the story, quickly. I left out the part about Billy Ray wanting to nail my butt to the wall. While I spoke, Sister got up and fixed us iced tea with sliced limes. Shannon nodded her appreciation and sipped. She didn’t interrupt my story and sat thoughtfully for a moment when I finished. “A baseball bat, of all things,” Shannon finally said. “I still can’t believe it. I always thought that she’d go down frothing at the mouth, waving her trusty Bible.” “Not to be indelicate,” I said, “but I take it you didn’t share your aunt’s religious views.” One of her fine, high, arched eyebrows (which probably already needed a building permit) went up a little farther.

“No, I’m afraid I didn’t. I know you didn’t get along with her, Jordy.

Sometimes, I didn’t either. My folks died when I was seventeen in a car wreck in Houston. They didn’t leave me enough for college, and I didn’t have the grades for a scholarship. Aunt Beta gave me the money for college.” She smiled. “With provisions. As long as I went to Baylor. As long as I went to church regularly. As long as I majored in religion.” “Sounds like Beta,” Sister put in. Shannon smiled her gorgeous smile. I might have majored in religion myself to see that more often. “It turned out to be negotiable. I ended up majoring in music instead. I just told Aunt Beta I specialized in church music, and that made her happy.” “I’m glad someone could negotiate with her;

I never mastered that particular talent.” I shifted on the couch.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Shannon, but why are you here to see me? Surely not just to meet the man who found your aunt’s body?”