Chapter 5

Jerry froze behind the wheel of his truck as Lester casually pointed his shotgun towards him. He took a breath and tried to calm his voice. He glanced over at Wanda Jean, but she was too busy rummaging in her big purse to talk. He shrugged: he would never understand women. All evening she had jabbered away but now, when he needed her to talk, she was quiet as a church mouse.

“Mister Purnell sent me, I have a delivery for you,” he said, and his voice only quavered a little.

Luther jerked the shotgun barrel to his left and said, “I’ll take twelve gallons, back up to that there barn and unload it.”

Jerry backed up to the barn, got out and dropped the tail gate of his truck. Jerry twisted the lever that released the floor planks and pulled 12 half gallon mason pickle jars out of the driver’s side compartment. He moved around to the passenger side to take 12 from that side to keep his truck level, just like Mr. Purnell taught him. As he reached across the side of the truck bed, he heard Wanda Jean open the passenger door. Curious, he glanced over the truck bed to see what she was doing. He did a double take when he saw her casually leaning against the truck fender, a long barreled black revolver held down by her side. She saw him looking and shot him a wink.

Jerry composed himself and continued pulling jars and setting them in the doorway of the dilapidated barn. He counted the empty jars Weeks was returning. Hoke Purnell sold his shine for eight dollars a gallon plus a dollar per jar. If the customer returned a jar, they kept the dollar. Weeks had fifteen empty jars. As he figured in his head how much Weeks owed, he sent a silent thank you to Ida for the math tutoring.

“That’ll be a hundred and five dollars, Mister Weeks.”

Weeks ignored Jerry as he turned and leered at Wanda Jean.

“You can go on home, boy. I’ll give the little lady here the money and we can go honky-tonking when I make a delivery to a juke joint over by Fletcherville.”

Wanda laughed and swung the pistol up in a two-handed grip onto the hood of Jerry’s truck with a thunk.

“I don’t think so, Luther. My papa told me to watch out for you, and he taught me how to shoot this here pistol, so I’m pretty sure I can take your balls off from here. I reckon you should put down the shotgun and give Jerry the money.”

Jerry looked back and forth between Wanda and Weeks. He felt like the townsfolk in a cowboy movie, when two gunslingers met on Main Street, at noon! Finally, Weeks spit out a wad of Redman onto the ground and lowered his shotgun.

“Tell your pappy I was just foolin’, Miss, ‘cause that’s all it was,” Weeks said with an ingratiating gap-toothed smile as he dug the money out of the pocket of his dirty overalls.

Jerry didn’t say anything as he took the money; but Wanda, voice dripping with sarcasm, said, “Suure, Luther, I’ll tell him.”

Jerry kept his composure as he pulled away from Luther Weeks’ shack, but Wanda Jean let out a whoop as she stowed the pistol back into her cavernous purse.

“I knew we’d have fun tonight!” she gushed.

Jerry looked at her as if she were crazy.

“I sure didn’t! Ol’ Luther scared the crap out of me!” he blurted.

Wanda laughed and slid over next to him, she draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled his hand down onto her firm and substantial bosom.

“You are such a Boy Scout, you poor baby,” she said. “if you take me somewhere private, I’ll show you something else that’s fun.”

Jerry motored over to the spot he and Lisa used, and parked next to a huge poplar tree. It was on an overgrown logging road behind the Antioch Missionary Baptist Church. It was a warm spring night lit by a three-quarter moon. Bush Crickets and Whippoorwills serenaded the young couple, and Confederate Jasmine sweetened the air. A billion stars and a thousand lightning bugs darted and winked above them as they made love on a quilt spread on the soft grass under the tree.

Jerry used on Wanda everything he’d learned from Ida. He took the time to slowly strip her so he could admire the results. Her body was spectacular, her skin flawless and silky smooth with firm underlying muscle. Wanda wasn’t used to a take charge man, but Jerry had only learned Ida’s way of doing things. In the end it didn’t matter, as Wanda writhed on the quilt. She moaned and cried out in passion as Jerry wrung orgasms from her with his hands and lips. Wanda Jean Parnell was a highly sexed young woman. After her fourth strong orgasm, she pushed Jerry’s face away from her center.

“In me,” she grunted.

Jerry jumped up and retrieved a condom from the glove box of his truck. He shucked his clothes as Wanda impatiently grabbed the foil wrapped prophylactic and ripped it open with her teeth. Jerry stepped forward and she rolled the condom onto his shaft. The whole procedure took less than a minute.

Wanda Jean was surprisingly snug for her level of wetness, but he knew right away he wouldn’t last very long. Wanda knew it, too. She pulled him down for a kiss.

“Let it go, Jerry, I’m guessing you are good for more than one,” she whined in his ear.

Jerry was more than a little relieved that she had been right as he stayed hard. He didn’t miss a beat after filling her. Instead, he hooked her legs behind his arms, rolled her back on her shoulders and shifted into a higher gear.

Later, Wanda Jean was sitting on the tailgate of Jerry’s truck, her amazing naked body lightly wrapped in the same quilt upon which they had just made spectacular love. She was in no hurry to get dressed. Jerry, on the other hand, was struggling into his jeans, embarrassed by how he looked naked, compared to her. Wanda languidly stuck out her perfectly formed leg and poked him with her toe.

“Damn, Tonto, that was good. We are going to be doing that again. But you didn’t learn that from some high school virgin, did you?” she said.

Jerry shrugged and said, “I don’t talk about stuff like that. It’s disrespectful.”

She flashed him a smile and her teeth were perfect, just like the rest of her.

“Good answer,” she said.

Wanda was again there to make deliveries with him the next Friday evening. Wanda was a vision in a dark green, knee length, pleated skirt and a white button up blouse. She looked as if she was dressed for a church social. Her long red hair was held behind her shell-like ears with tortoise shell barrettes and some lip gloss was all the makeup she wore or needed. As soon as they were on the road Jerry complimented her appearance.

“You look really nice tonight, Wanda Jean,” he said.

She grinned as she unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse.

“Pawpaw and Granny think I’m sweet and demure, so I try to be that around them,” she replied.

This night the deliveries were more numerous but not as large or exciting as with Luther Weeks. They took some shine to a couple of after-hours clubs in Wetzel County and dropped five gallons at a bait shop up on Ridge Creek. Afterwards it was back to the Antioch Missionary Baptist Church.

After Wanda Jean was contentedly sated, she jumped up and pulled on her clothes. Once she and Jerry were dressed, they were in the truck and on the road. Instead of sliding over next to Jerry she remained against the passenger door.

“We need to talk,” she said without preamble.

Jerry, clueless about the horrible implications of those four words, nodded for her to go ahead.

“Sure, Wanda Jean. What’s on your mind?”

“I enjoy your company, Jericho Donavan, and we have a lot of fun together; but you need to know that we will never be anything but friends. I have my future planned out; and, no offense, but there are no poor country boys in it.

“In a couple of months I’ll be moving down to Charleston to attend the Secretarial School down there. I am working hard at losing my accent and I’m reading the Dale Carnegie book. I’m going to use my looks and my charm to catch me a rich husband; and when I catch him, I’m going to make sure I’m all he’ll ever want or need. I’ll give him anything he wants, however and whenever he wants it.”

Jerry chuckled at her vehemence and replied, “I understand, and I believe you, Wanda Jean. I know you are headed for bigger things than Chaney Hollow, and I’ll always appreciate the time you spent with me.”

Jerry meant every word he said. He knew there was no way Wanda was staying in the West Virginia hills. Besides, Wanda was the second woman he’d slept with that week, and he had a date with the third tomorrow night. He reckoned he had no reason to complain.

Jerry’s date with Lisa Bass could happen on Saturday night because all his deliveries were during the day. He delivered a nine-inch Ford rear end to a repair shop in Pitchfork, and he delivered six used tires and two gallons of moonshine to a gas station across the county line. He was back at Purnell’s salvage yard by four. Hoke Purnell paid him the forty dollars he’d earned that week and sent him on his way. Jerry took the forty dollars home and gave it to his mother. Ester promptly handed him back ten.

“You keep this, Jericho, and have some fun with it. We are doing just fine this month,” Ester said.

Jerry didn’t argue with his mother. Never had, never would. Instead, he said, “Thank you,” and slipped the two fives into his wallet.

Jerry washed his truck, put on his best jeans and his new plaid shirt, and went to Lisa’s house. As usual, he had to wait in the living room with Mister Bass while Lisa, and this time also her mother, finished getting ready. They were all going to a ‘social’ at the family’s church: the First Methodist Church of Cokerville. Their son Lloyd Bass was already at the church, helping with the setup. Lisa was riding with Jerry so they could stay longer because Pastor Riley had arranged for a tractor and a trailer full of hay for the church’s teens.

While waiting Mister Bass had a chat with Jerry. It was surprisingly like his conversation with Wanda Jean.

“I know we had this discussion before, but I think it’s worth repeating. I like you, Jerry,” Bass said. “I’ve known your family for many years and your father was a good man. You remind me of him in how you conduct yourself. My daughter likes you, too; and that might become a problem. See, Lisa has a bright future in front of her and I fully expect she’ll be a doctor before it’s all said and done.

“I mean no offense; but you, on the other hand, don’t even have a high school diploma. As far as I can tell, you don’t have a lot of ambition, either. It would be bad for Lisa to get to involved with you, I hope you can respect that and not take advantage of her.”

Jerry could understand it, but he didn’t have to like it.

“Mister Bass, I would never do anything to keep Lisa from her dreams. I also think she can be anything she puts her mind to. You are wrong about me having no ambition, but what I want, takes second fiddle to supporting my mother and sisters.”

Before Bass could reply, his wife and daughter made their appearance. So he just nodded his understanding.

The church social was less uncomfortable than Jerry thought it would be. He was friends with several of the teenagers in attendance, and Lisa graciously introduced him to the others. Jerry was normal shy and quiet, but Lisa carried the conversation and even managed to keep him engaged.

The hayride was a big deal for Lisa because Bev Holman, the girl that kissed Jerry on their ninth-grade hayride, was also on this one. Lisa held onto Jerry staking her ownership claim and, when Pastor Riley was looking elsewhere, but Bev wasn’t, Lisa laid a serious smooch on Jerry.

After the hayride Jerry and Lisa went parking in their usual spot behind Antioch Church. Lisa was especially wound up that night and started removing her clothes before Jerry was completely parked. She was wound up enough that when Jerry finished bringing her to a third crashing orgasm on his tongue she wanted to go further.

“Put it in me, Jerry, I don’t want to wait any longer,” she moaned as she scrambled to undo his jeans.

Jerry was just as hot as she was, but he managed to pull away before she opened his button fly. It was a close thing.

“Not like this, Lisa, and not tonight. You need to save that last step for someone you love,” he said.

Lisa was embarrassed but happy that Jericho had such self-restraint. The night reinforced her faith and trust in him.

Coker County High graduated a class of forty-six seniors the second Friday of June. Lisa Bass was valedictorian of course. Jerry avoided the graduation ceremony, embarrassed that he wasn’t one of those walking across the stage. But the following week Ida Flood drove him to Charleston in her baby blue Thunderbird. Ida loved that car because her husband bought it for her on her twenty-fifth birthday, barely two months before he passed away from an aneurysm. The car’s pristine condition belied its age.